


Begin Again

by aflawedfashion



Category: Defiance (TV)
Genre: F/F, Femslash, Post-Canon, don't read if you're hoping datak is the hero
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-20
Updated: 2020-03-21
Packaged: 2020-05-15 01:58:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 33,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19285783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aflawedfashion/pseuds/aflawedfashion
Summary: 5 years after Stahma killed Kenya, the Omec have returned to Defiance with a power that gives Stahma the ability to undo her greatest mistake.Now, Kenya must figure out how to live in a town that’s moved on without her, Amanda must learn to trust again, and Stahma must finally choose what side she’s on as the conflict between her son and her estranged husband reaches a point of no return.





	1. Stahma

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is pretty darn canon complaint up until the end of season 3 at which point I took ownership of canon and moved everyone a couple years forward in their lives.

A bitterly cold wind whipped Stahma’s long white hair away from her face, ripping through her thin wool coat like a warning. Her handmaiden, Alina, shivered at her side, but Stahma hardly felt the breeze. She hadn’t felt much of anything in months, not since she devoted her life to correcting her gravest mistake, to reviving her murdered lover.

Alina tried to catch Stahma’s gaze, but Stahma refused to acknowledge the girl’s warning. She already knew everything she would say. _Why risk your life for a silly human prostitute? Sex was her profession. Are you sure she even loved you?_ Each of Alina’s questions reflected conventional Castithan wisdom. Humans died because they were weak, untrustworthy, and easily manipulated while Castithans triumphed through strength and brutality. Every Castithan knew this was the natural order of things.

But Alina had grown up on Earth and had never been in love. She could never understand the way Kenya had opened Stahma’s eyes to the endless potential of her new planet. Their relationship, however brief it may have been, meant so much more than a few hours of pleasure. Without Kenya, Stahma would still be a slave to her husband’s desires, painfully unaware of her own oppression.

Stahma was determined to prove she hadn’t dragged Alina on a fool’s errand, and she knew that as soon as Alina met Kenya, she would understand why Stahma had gladly bartered with criminals who wouldn’t hesitate to press a gun to her temple the moment they grew bored with her. Their threats never scared or deterred her. She knew how to read people, knew what they were thinking before they acted.

Most of them were foolish men, both human and Votan, who falsely viewed themselves as ruggedly handsome movie stars, the type of man who couldn’t fathom a woman posing any real threat. They saw her as a walking chivo, blind to her true nature until they fell to the ground in front of her, gasping for their last breaths of life.

Those men disgusted her with their disagreeable odors and their salacious leering, but for the chance to hear Kenya’s voice again, Stahma would gladly sit quietly as a thousand more sleazy ark hunters placed their dirty hands on her thighs while telling her she was chasing a rumor, a myth, nothing more.

It was the same dance every time. Stahma’s hand would brush across a man’s arm like a butterfly, soft and gentle. He would pause, his eyes growing dark as a smirk crossed his face, believing her desperate enough to sleep with him, paying no attention to the quick prick of a needle against his skin. He wouldn’t notice anything was wrong until it was too late, until his heart struggled to beat, and the world around him grew hazy. She’d done it more times than she cared to admit, and if the man in front of her made a single wrong move, she’d do it again.

“I gave you your money.” Stahma offered a polite Castithan smile. It was more than he deserved. “Now give me what I paid for.”

“All yours, my darling,” said the man (who preferred to remain anonymous) as he placed a small wooden box in her hands. “I’d never cheat a woman as beautiful as you.”

“Yes, of course.” Stahma dismissed him with a flick of her wrist. “We’re done now.”

Excitement warmed Stahma’s soul as she examined the delicate box, happily confirming its authenticity as the man’s friend chided him, “You can’t ‘cheat a woman as beautiful as her’… what kind of bullshtack line is that?”

“Can’t stop a man from falling in love.” His tone dripped with bravado, his words loud and clear for Stahma to hear. “I like ’em deadly.”

“Sure, right,” his friend snickered. “You want everyone to believe you’re thinking with your cock, but we both know that’s the biggest lie since they told us humans and Votans could live together in peace.”

“What the chup are you talking about?” he snarled like a puffed-up little boy in a schoolyard fight. Stahma turned away from the men to hide the amused smile that threatened to ruin her poised appearance.

“You don’t want to admit the truth - you’re afraid of a good Castithan housewife.”

“I should punch you for that!”

The smile fell from Stahma’s face. As humorous as she found their idiotic bantering, she didn’t have the patience for it. She could hardly stand to spend another second in this world without Kenya, and they were getting in her way. “If you don’t leave now,” she said, turning back to the men, “I’ll show you what you have to fear.”

“We have nothing to fear,” the man’s friend said with surprising earnestness. He should have been in charge.

“But we don’t want to bother you,” the man added, his own fear apparent. “You are a paying customer, after all.”

“Of course-” the man’s friend began to interject before receiving a sharp elbow to the side.

Taking the hint, the man said, “have a lovely day, ma’am. We’ll be getting out of your hair shortly,” and raised his hands in surrender, a playful grin on his face. “I’ll be living like a king on what you paid for that piece of junk. Whoever you want to bring back… I hope they’re worth it.”

“She’s worth ten times as much,” Stahma said.

An opportunistic smile crept across the man’s face. “Well if that’s the case-”

Stahma glared, and the man sheepishly added, “Never mind.”

“Our deal is done.” Stahma turned to Alina. “Come.”

“Yes, Favi,” Alina said, nervous energy radiating from her entire body. She wasn’t a cowardly girl, but she obviously feared Stahma’s actions more than the ark hunters.

As much as she admired the way Alina’s devotion outweighed her fear, Stahma couldn’t help but feel disappointed by her unadventurous nature. She did not love her the way she loved her previous handmaidens, Jalina and Andina. Jalina had been a part of the Tarr family since childhood, and Andina would have happily following Stahma into the badlands, bravely assisting in her conquests - not simply out of devotion, but out of a genuine desire to succeed. Sadness tugged at Stahma’s heart. She desperately wished she could bring them both back, but sadly, she could not save everyone.

“If I might add one more thing,” the man said. “You should know that the device won’t work without the guidance of some thousand-page Omec magic rule book. We’ve been gathering these devices from Arkfall for years, but they’re nothing more than expensive paperweights that rich people collect in the hope of a miracle that’s never going to come. Votans smuggled them on their ships to save their loved ones, and yet we’ve never found a single one that’s actually been used.”

“Are you trying to con yourself out of your payday?” Alina asked.

The man gave Alina a knowing smile and a patronizing shake of the head. “Deep down, everyone who has ever purchased one of these devices knows they won’t work, but they can’t resist the possibility. You’ll take it home and put it on the mantelpiece, praying for a miracle just like everyone else.”

“It’s different now,” Stahma said.

“Different?”

“The Omec are back, and their power is anything but a myth.”

“Maybe so, but most of the Omec who settled around here are still in Defiance, and that town… Well, let’s just say it’s not where you go to break the law. They’ll ship you off to Vegas if they catch you jaywalking.”

“So be it,” Stahma said. “I am not afraid of human law.”

“What of Omec law?” the man asked. “What of the rules?”

“Taken care of.” Stahma turned away from the men, her handmaiden following dutifully behind her.

“What rules?” Alina asked as soon as they got out of earshot of the men. “You said this was different than what the Goddess of the Badlands did to bring her father back from the grave.”

“Different, yes.”

Alina watched Stahma with fear in her eyes, not daring to ask for more details.

“It’s nothing you need to worry about.” Stahma touched the girl’s arm. “The most dangerous part is obtaining the device, and we have it. It’s over.”

“I fear for you.”

“Don’t,” Stahma said.

“I can’t help it.” She smiled coyly. “I care about you.”

She brushed Alina’s hair out of her face. “I need to tell you a story that my tutor first told me when I was barely four years old.”

“Is now the right time for a story?”

“Yes,” Stahma said. “Because I hope it will soothe your fears.”

Alina linked her arm through Stahma’s. “Tell me.”

“A long time ago, there lived a wealthy Omec warrior who fell madly in love with a sweet maiden. They made passionate love under the stars and danced in empty ballrooms until one night they got into a terrible fight. She screamed horrible things at him, and in a fit of rage, he accidentally killed her. As her lifeless body fell to the ground, he fell into a depression that lasted for weeks until a sorcerer arrived on his doorstep, claiming he could revive the young woman, but there was a catch. In exchange for her life, he had to prove himself worthy of her love. He thought it would be a simple task. Who could be more worthy of a woman’s love than a man of great wealth and power such as himself? So he offered the sorcerer a share of his wealth and a kingdom of his own to rule over, but the sorcerer did not want either of those things.”

“What did he want?” Alina asked.

“His truth,” Stahma said. “The warrior needed to bear his heart and prove his love was real. He needed to prove that if she was returned to him, he would never lie to her or hurt her again. If not…”

“If not she remains dead simply because she loved a terrible man.” Despite missing the entire reason this story mattered to Stahma, Alina spoke with a hint of disgust that gave Stahma hope she wasn’t such a simple girl afterall.

“That doesn’t matter,” Stahma said. “Because he did it. He bared his authentic soul. He proved they were soulmates.”

“That’s just a story.” Alina stared straight ahead as she spoke. “A violent story written by cruel men to convince young women to love them. How many times have I heard you complain of the way Casti men attempt to control you? And this is how they do it. Casti lore is even more rife with such stories than Omec lore. Why do you think they told a child that story instead of one about a kindly Omec grandmother who knits magical sweaters? Why do you choose to believe this one?”

“If this works, if Kenya comes back to life, why shouldn’t I believe it?”

“Because this is science, not an ancient story. It’s technology so advanced we don’t understand how it works.”

“Isn’t that what magic is?” Stahma asked. “Science we just don’t understand yet?”

“Well…” Alina looked away. “I don’t want to believe that detestable story is true.”

“Then you don’t have to,” Stahma said. “But I need to believe it because, Alina, I already live in that detestable world. Don’t you see how this is the only story that has ever given me hope that I can change and start anew?”

“Datak demanded you kill Kenya.” Alina looked at Stahma with the pity of a young woman who was grateful she would never suffer as her elders had suffered. “You were only doing your duty as his wife.”

“Yes, I can blame my husband for demanding that I get rid of Kenya, and I have blamed him, but I am the one who chose to kill her. If he had loved Kenya as I love her, he would never have killed her, but I poisoned her without hesitation. After years of contemplation, I have come to realize that I am the villain of my own story, and I don’t want to play that role anymore.”

Alina furrowed her brow in confusion. “You want to be a hero? A lawkeeper? A philanthropist?”

“No.” Stahma smiled. “That is not my fate. I simply want to end this tragic tale and begin a new one.”


	2. Alina

Alina carried herself with poise, greeting each Castithan on the street with a faint smile and a subtle bow of the head, exactly as she had practiced in front of the mirror when she was a child dreaming of a glamorous future. A slight thrill coursed through her veins when they smiled and bowed their heads in return. Not one of them looked away uncomfortably or glared at her like they used to before she came to Defiance.

She hated to think about her former life, but whenever she did, the memories came rushing back like a herd of angry hellbugs. It was only two years earlier that she had been trapped in a grueling life as her aunt’s unwanted dependent. In those days, she would never have guessed that accepting a humble job as a servant in a new town could transform everything she knew of the world. In an instant, she grew from an impoverished girl to a respectable woman, entirely on the power of the Tarr name. A name that wasn’t even her own.

Her eyes flickered to the side, and a twinge of apprehension overcame her as she noticed the lawkeepers, Irisa Nolan and her girlfriend, Berlin - just Berlin. They were leaning against the side of the Indogene school building, utterly lost in a flirtatious battle of wits. Losing the battle, Irisa hooked her finger into Berlin’s belt loop and retaliated with a playful growl that sent Berlin into a fit of laughter as she pulled her closer. 

Alina blushed and began to turn away, but Irisa had already fixed her intimidating gaze on her. All signs of her private flirtation faded from her face in an instant, replaced with a look that could melt a bioman’s resolve.

She gave a faint bow of the head, fighting her nerves as she said, “Good evening” to the lawkeepers.

Berlin struggled to control her laughter, visibly disappointed by the interruption as she said, “I haven’t seen you around lately,” and Alina knew it wasn’t her she was keeping tabs on. It was Stahma. 

“Favi Tarr keeps me occupied,” Alina said.

“I’m sure she does,” Irisa stated, distrust dripping from her voice. 

Alina desperately wished she could assure them of her trustworthiness and that she admired everything they did to protect this town, but her loyalty to Stahma brought her endless suspicion. Even the Castithans who smiled at her on the street didn’t fully trust her or anyone else associated with the Tarrs. Their respect didn’t translate into trust.

Even though Alina knew nothing of Datak’s illegal businesses, she had to admit that he wasn’t the only Tarr to have committed reprehensible acts of violence and terror against the town. Stahma had dealt dangerous drugs, blown up the arch, and murdered the mayor’s sister. She was far from innocent, but Alina could never believe she was genuinely evil. She was quiet, intelligent, and thoughtful. She had an explanation for every action, no matter how vile it seemed, and she had just returned from a grueling, costly journey to save her dead lover. A woman who could experience such profound love and regret couldn’t be all bad, could she?

“They’re shooting off fireworks tonight,” Berlin said. “You should come. Alak will be there. I’m sure he’d save you a spot.” Everyone always wanted her to spend more time with Alak, the good Tarr, the one the entire town hoped would change the world, and maybe he would. By all accounts, he was on a path to become Mayor Rosewater’s successor one day.

“Unfortunately, I don’t think I will be able to attend,” Alina said. “I need to go to the NeedWant.” 

Berlin arched an eyebrow, and Alina rushed to add, “I turned 18 two weeks ago. It’s legal now.” 

“In that case, have fun,” Berlin encouraged Alina, but Irisa looked like she would rather eat worms than discuss anyone’s sex life. “Just be careful. Don’t go too wild your first time in there.” 

“Don’t worry, I’m just visiting Suli.” Alina bowed again, saying her goodbyes before continuing on her way to theNeedWant.

“Do you trust her?” Irisa asked Berlin in a hushed tone, and Alina slowed her pace to hear as much of their conversation as possible without drawing attention to her eavesdropping. 

“She’s not Stahma,” Berlin said. “She’s just a kid.”

“I did dangerous things when I was her age.”

“And I was in the E-Rep, but look at us now - wearing badges.”

“You’re right.” Irisa paused. “We have to give her a chance. Everyone deserves that.”

Alina smiled as her apprehension melted away. If they would give her a chance, she was determined not to let them down. This town was the first place that ever felt like home, and she never wanted to hurt it. With a renewed vigor, she dropped her hands to her sides as she bounded into the NeedWant where she found her best friend and honorary big sister, Suli, serving drinks to an ornery human man. 

She had met Suli mere hours after she stepped off the landcoach on her first day in Defiance. They were both lost and alone in a new town with no friends or family. Suli’s brother had taken a group of Omec into the badlands to start their own community somewhere in the northern part of the continent, not caring to stay in Defiance, but Suli wanted to live in a thriving town despite the challenges of acclimating as a foreigner. She, like Alina, wasn’t cut out for a life of adventure, and she knew that establishing a new town and government would be tumultuous. It would be years before they had properly settled, so Suli stayed in Defiance, a decision Alina was eternally grateful for. 

They bonded quickly, but Alina could never understand how Suli worked as both madam and night porter. She was a lovely Omec woman with choppy medium length silver hair, deep purple skin, and bright eyes that bordered between blue and violet. She had an infectious way with people that made her instantly popular with the NeedWant’s customers, and a business savvy intellect that quickly earned her a promotion to manager. 

“Don’t look so disgusted,” Suli said, turning to Alina after she sent the man off with a pretty night porter. 

“I can’t help it.” Alina would much rather brush Favi Tarr’s hair and sleep alone in the finest sheets than pretend she wanted strangers writhing on top of her every night. 

“It’s not as bad as you think it is,” Suli said. “And sometimes it’s a lot of fun.” She grinned. “More fun that you can imagine.”

Alina grimaced and said, “I’m only here to drink,” as she emphatically dropped a wad of scrip on the bar.

Suli’s eyes widened. “Where did you get that?”

“Favi Tarr.” A proud smile crossed Alina’s face. “You’re not the only one with a well-paying job.” 

“This is more than I make after tips.” She looked into Alina’s eyes with worry. “What did you do?”

“Nothing, I swear.” She placed her hand reassuringly on top of Suli’s. “I simply accompanied Favi Tarr on a long journey, and she repaid me with kindness.” Suli still didn’t look convinced, so Alina decided to change the subject. “But now I’m home, and I want to celebrate my birthday with you, and your best bottle of champagne.”

Suli’s expression softened, and she said, “I have the perfect thing,” but Alina knew she was still worried and wasn’t finished asking questions.

With a bottle of champagne and two classes in tow, they climbed onto a balcony above an abandoned cafe where no one would notice them. The sun was beginning to set, and they had the best view of the fireworks in the city.

Alina filled their glasses, and they drank and talked until Suli interrupted Alina‘s story by saying, “I don’t know if you should be telling me all this.” 

“It’s fine,” Alina insisted.

“The mayor signs my checks, and you know how much your boss has hurt mine. I don’t want to risk losing my job over Stahma Tarr’s secrets.”

“They’re my secrets too.” Alina couldn’t hide the wounded tone from her voice. If she couldn’t tell her best friend, who else could she tell?

“You know I’d do anything for you, but don’t you see that’s why I can’t know these things? I don’t want to be put between you and Amanda because I’d choose you even if it ruined everything I’ve worked for here in Defiance.”

“I don’t want to hurt you.” Alina took a deep breath, ashamed of how selfishly she was behaving, but she couldn’t keep everything bottled up inside. She felt like she was going to burst. “And I’ll try not to say anything that would get you in trouble, I promise, but I need to ask you a question. It’s important.” 

“Ok.” Suli refilled her glass in preparation for the upcoming conversation. “Just don’t ask me about murder.”

“Did you ever hear a story about an Omec warrior who killed his lover and then bargained with a sorcerer to bring her back to life?”

Suli’s expression relaxed as she teased, “that’s a question about murder.”

“ _ Fictional _ murder.” 

“ _ Fictional _ is a matter of opinion. It all depends on whether you believe it or not.” 

“So you know the story?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Do you believe it?”

“Of course not.”

“So Omec can’t bring people back from the dead?”

Suli sighed. “It’s more complicated than that. There’s not a person in this town who hasn’t read the Amazing Goddess of the Badlands, so we all know it’s possible to bring someone back from the dead. There were ways to do it before we got here, and now, I’m sure there are others, but I don’t know of anyone who can actually do it. Those with the knowledge don’t talk about it. They don’t want to be hounded by every person who lost someone they loved. In the story, it’s a sorcerer, but in reality, it’s probably done with nanites and scientific shit that requires decades study and admission to a secret society to understand.”

“Favi Tarr found one of the devices.” 

“That won’t get her anywhere. It’s useless unless you know someone who can actually use it.”

Alina nodded, considering her next words carefully. She was rapidly approaching the part of the conversation that could incriminate herself, and get Suli in trouble if it upset the mayor. “Ok… hypothetically, if after we found the device, we had traveled north and found someone who claimed to know how to make it work, could we bring a person back to life who had been dead for five years?”

“Five years?” Suli laughed. “Yeah, I don’t know. After five years, maybe you really would need to make a deal with a sorcerer, not a doctor, but I have no idea. I couldn’t even begin to guess.” And then she shrugged like she didn’t want to talk about it anymore. “I love playing your wise older sister who knows everything, but this one is beyond me. I’m only 23, and that’s not nearly as old and wise as you think it is.”

“You’re still Omec. It’s your culture.”

“I’m a prostitute, not a scientist, and besides, what if I asked you to explain why those old Castithan priests write such weird scripture?”

“Point taken.” Alina took a sip of champagne and changed the subject. “Maybe you can answer a different question.” 

“Shoot.” 

“Have you ever fallen in love with one of your clients.”

Suli shook her head. “No.” 

“Never?”

“It’s business. Sure, I enjoy spending time with some clients more than others, but unless they’re truly terrible, they all get the same act. I pretend whatever I need to pretend because if I didn’t, I’d lose all my customers and go broke.”

Alina’s heart sank as Suli confirmed her fears. “Do any night porters love their clients?” She wanted to cling to hope that Kenya was an exception because if Stahma loved her so much, she must be exceptional.

“Oh.” Suli nodded her head vigorously, a million untold stories written in her knowing expression. “Absolutely.” 

Alina perked up. “Really?” 

“Sometimes night porters fake it too well and too long, and other times, I suppose, you never know where you’re going to meet the right person. Maybe your true love can wander into a brothel just as easily as a cafe.” Suli’s warm smile faded as she watched Alina drink her champagne. “I hear things,” she said. “About Stahma.” 

A pit formed in Alina’s stomach. “Everyone hears things about her.” Alina wished it was easier to love Stahma.

“She killed the mayor’s sister, a prostitute who she claimed to be in love with.” She hesitated a moment before asking her question. “Is that who she’s trying to bring back?”

Alina turned away, trying to protect her secrets. “Kenya’s not the only one she’s killed. It could be someone else. She also killed her daughter in law.” Alina rushed to add, “although it was her choice to die,” to absolve Stahma of her guilt.

“What do you mean ‘her choice to die?’” 

“I wasn’t there, but I’ve gathered that she sacrificed her life to save her son. A horrible, tragic choice, but her choice, nonetheless.” 

“Then it can’t be her daughter in law she’s trying to bring back.”

“Why?” 

“She wouldn’t fight this hard for someone who chose to die, and even if she did, she wouldn’t succeed. No god or scientist would risk bringing back someone who didn’t want to be brought back. I’m not an idiot, Alina. Stahma’s fixing her own mistake, exactly like the story. She’s a violent woman who killed her lover, and it doesn’t matter if the story is true or not. She believes it, and she wants to bring back Kenya to absolve herself of guilt.” 

“I thought you didn’t want to know the details.” 

“I don’t. I do. I don’t know. I just...” Suli buried her face in her hands. “Amanda’s a good person, and you’re talking about her sister.” 

“Then you should want this for her,” Alina said, her voice nearly cracking with emotion. “You should want her to be happy just as I want Stahma to be happy.” 

“I do…” Suli lifted her head and looked at Alina. “It’s her birthday tomorrow. We’re shutting down the NeedWant all morning celebrate.” 

Alina grinned. “Then it’s a perfect present!” Her excitement grew at the thought that Stahma would do something to earn the mayor’s favor. This would be her chance at redemption, her chance to change everything and start over. Alina could picture herself having a friendly conversation with the lawkeepers, their skeptical gazes replaced with respect and trust.

“Only if it works.” 

“And if it doesn’t work, Mayor Rosewater never has to know.” Alina spoke rapidly, unbridled enthusiasm flowing through her words. “There is no problem for her or any risk for you. There are no consequences other than Favi Tarr’s lost money and time.” 

Suli’s eyes grew dark. “What if Kenya comes back broken… Or… I don’t know… I don’t trust this.” Her voice was raw and scared. “Five years, Alina. How do you come back from that? She’s bones in the ground.”

“Rayetsu, or whichever gods watch over us, they will favor us,” Alina insisted. It’s what Stahma always said when Alina voiced her own doubts. 

Suli didn’t look convinced, but they shared a glance that ended the debate before it got too heated. They would know the truth soon enough. Alina leaned back and watched the first firework erupt into the night sky. Over the course of the evening, she had convinced herself that everything would be fine, and if they were lucky, all their problems would be solved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While some people love coming up with fun new scifi names, I am not one of them - at least not when inventing one to work into an exiting universe with an entire language I know almost nothing about. 
> 
> But I scrolled through David J. Peterson's Omec tag on his old tumblr and found that suul meant sun, and I worked that into the name Suli. I debated if I should use two u's or not, but I ended up using just one because I think it made her name stand out less, and I didn't really want people hung up on the unusual name/spelling when reading. 
> 
> There were only ever two named Omec in the series (according to IMDB the other recurring Omec were just named numbers one through four), so I didn't have a lot to go on other than Kindzi.
> 
> Also, a note on Irisa’s last name - in canon she changed her last name to Nolan well before the series started because she didn’t want to be associated with the parents who abused her and fully considers Nolan to be her father. She was born Nyira, but that is not the name she uses, so I will always use Nolan as her last name. When I sent AO3 screencaps, transcripts, and the biographical info about her that says all this, they just told me that characters will always display as whatever the first person to tag them used (but I’m pretty sure that’s not even true), so this site will say Nyira, but it should be Nolan, and I'll continue to use Nolan.


	3. Doc

Even if Meh Yewll lived an eternity on Earth, she would never understand why humans behaved the way they did. She had accepted this fact long ago, and yet she was still confused when a pair of lawkeepers stumbled into her office at 8 o’clock in the morning, proudly display injuries sustained in an unnecessary fight.

“You’re too old to be fighting biomen,” Meh scolded Nolan. “And you,” she added, turning to Berlin, “You’re too smart.” 

Berlin and Nolan exchanged a knowing look before Berlin said, “It’s our job.” 

“You want me to get your boss in here?” Meh folded her arms and spoke to them like insolent children, and as far as she was concerned, that’s exactly what they were. “I’m sure she’d disagree with you on that. It wouldn’t suit her if either of you got yourselves killed over this.”

“That bioman has been harassing people in the streets for weeks,” Nolan said. “He was getting dangerous.”

“And we stopped him.” Berlin flashed Nolan a proud grin. “Because we know what we’re doing.”

Meh glared at Nolan and Berlin, fighting the urge to smack them both on the backs of their heads. “If you knew what you were doing, you wouldn’t be my primary source of income.” She paused, her annoyance dissipating. “You know what, never mind what I just said.” She patted Nolan on the shoulder. “I need to finance an equipment upgrade. Please continue to get your asses kicked by biomen for me. In fact, do it more often.”

Nolan rolled his eyes and tossed a handful of scrip on the counter. “Maybe put this toward some comfier tables.”

Meh counted the money and nodded in appreciation. “Just don’t get yourselves killed the next time your caveman instincts tell you to punch something.”

“Do I detect concern for my well being?” Nolan playfully raised his eyebrows. “A subtle hint that you care?”

“No, you simply detect my need for new equipment  _ and  _ a trip to the beach. If you live, I win. If you die, I lose.” She gave him a wry look. She’d hate for anyone to know she didn’t entirely hate Nolan. The embarrassment would be mortifying. “So, stay alive, cowboy.” 

“Can’t really picture you in a bikini,” Nolan said.

“Good.” Meh looked him up and down. She may not entirely hate him, but he was starting to annoy her again. 

Years earlier, an Omec ship had nearly destroyed Meh’s body, and Nolan had saved her life. She would be forever in his debt, but she had spent more consecutive time in isolation with him than she had ever spent with anyone, even her wife, Lev. She had never been trapped in her marriage, unable to go anywhere else or even talk to anyone else, the way she was trapped with Nolan. 

It would have been suffocating if they hadn’t been dedicated to a singular, unifying purpose - survival. For months, they had devoted their waking hours to coordinating where to go, what to do, and how to get home. 

And after all that time relying on each other, she had grown accustomed to Nolan’s presence - like an obnoxious younger brother who annoyed her endlessly, but who she had lived with for so long that she couldn’t picture life without. 

“Don’t you have someplace to be?” Meh asked.

“Shtako,” Berlin said as she tightened her ponytail. “We need to pick up the cake for Amanda’s birthday party.” She pushed Nolan forward, taking a last glance at Meh. “Thanks again.”

“Anytime.”

The door slammed behind them as Meh put her money in her safe. It occurred to her that she could take a vacation before upgrading her equipment. She’d never actually taken a proper vacation before. Flying around in an Omec ship and living in Old St. Louis hardly counted as vacations given she hadn’t actually wanted to do either of those things. 

Until Samir came around, she never had the luxury of a life outside her job, and truthfully, after losing Lev, she never wanted to consider one. It only reminded her of what she had lost, but Lev had died so long ago that thinking about a life without her didn’t hurt as much anymore, and Samir had grown into a decent Doctor, so it wasn’t impossible to believe that she could leave him alone for a few days while she did something for herself. Afterall, the town hadn’t blown up while she and Nolan were lost in space.

Someday she would have to go on a vacation.

Someday. 

In the future. 

Not any time soon. 

Even as she dreamed about what kind of vacation she would enjoy, it was hard to imagine leaving Defiance again after working so hard to return home. She would never take her town for granted again. 

In the middle of their voyage through space, dread had overtaken her, dread that she would never feel anything but the perfectly tepid air and sterile smell of a spaceship. It had changed her. She had always felt like an alien on Earth, but now she knew it was her true home, the planet where she finally found a purpose.

She shivered as a cold breeze wafted through her office from the back door, plastic curtains billowing as she heard the familiar sound of Datak Tarr barging into the room like he owned it.

“My second most frequent customer.” Meh glanced at Datak before occupying her hands with cleaning. “I might be on the beach sooner than I thought.”

“What?” Datak sneered. 

“Nothing.” Meh sized him up, not finding any visible injuries in need of patching up. “What do you need?”

“My wife.”

“Regretfully, I don’t have her hidden away in here, and if I did, I don’t think I’d give her back.”

“Have you seen her?”

“Actually, yes.”

Datak narrowed his eyes. “And?” 

“And I’m trying to decide how I can use that information to my advantage.”

“Meh, I’m your friend. Just tell me.” 

Meh huffed and flicked her hand in Datak’s direction. “Friendship means nothing to me.” 

“I know that’s not true.” 

“Slight hyperbole, but you know I’d sell out my own sister to save my ass.”

“You don’t have a sister.”

“You don’t know that.”

“You’re an Indogene.” 

“And that means I can’t have family?”

“I don’t have time for this,” Datak growled in frustration. “Look, next time you need a favor, whatever it is, you get it as long as you tell me when you last saw Stahma.”

“Deal.” Meh nodded. A favor from Datak Tarr was worth more than all the scrip in Nolan’s wallet. “I saw your estranged wife this morning for the first time in weeks. I know you said she was visiting friends, but she doesn’t exactly have many living friends who she hasn’t horribly betrayed. I honestly thought she ran off to live with that cute little handmaiden she had grown so fond of, but apparently, I was wrong. I saw the pair of them heading out into the woods this morning with a cart full of supplies.” 

“I saw her handmaiden an hour ago, but the disobedient little runt is refusing to say a word about Stahma’s whereabouts.”

“It’s for the best she doesn’t tell you anything,” Meh said. “Stahma likely murdered someone and spent the morning burying the body. You don’t want anything to do with that, not right now. The lawkeepers are feeling extra spunky lately, and when she goes down for murder, there’s no need for you to go down with her.”

“I could help her not go down for murder,” Datak said. “I don’t understand why she wouldn’t tell me what she’s involved in. Illegal activity normally brings us together.” 

“Don’t be so dense. She’s hardly been around in months. I know you two have an open bed policy, but when your wife stops coming home, it’s a closed bed policy. Time to face the truth, Datak.” Meh gave his arm a friendly tap. It was the most emotion she cared to display. “She’s not including you in her conquests anymore.”

“I’m her husband.”

“You know, I saw a man fumbling around the NeedWant last night, drunk off his ass. I could have sworn it was you, but I don’t remember your wife having such dark hair.”

“Stahma doesn’t give a shtak about who I sleep with. We have a deal.”

“Maybe she’s bored with you,” Meh said. “Maybe her handmaiden knows a few tricks you don’t. Might want to talk to her - take a lesson or two.”

“It’s not about that. I know how to please my wife.” 

“Well, it’s about something.”

“Alak.” A painful realization crossed Datak’s face. “It has to be Alak.”

“I always knew the kid had a serious Oedipus complex.”

“Cut the jokes, Meh. You know that’s not what I mean.”

“If I cut the jokes, I cut the joy out of my life, but I will pause for your pain.”

“Thank you.” Sarcasm dripped from Datak’s words. “Your bedside manner is impeccable.”

“You’re not a patient. You don’t get bedside manner, but my inner gossip desperately wants to know what you did to Alak, so please, share your pain with me, and I will be your therapist for the next 20 minutes.”

Datak paused, glowering at Meh until he finally gave in and spoke. “Stahma continuously forgives his betrayal, and she expects me to do the same.”

“He’s your son.” 

“I love my son,” Datak said with such sincerity that it sent a chill through Meh’s bones. “I allowed him to marry a human girl and run a record business instead of carrying on the family legacy. I continue to allow him to live on his own, raising my grandchild in a human home, but he has gone too far. He’s turned against me, his own father. Am I just supposed to wait for him to hand me over the lawkeepers? He’s done it before, and I will never allow him to do it again.” 

Meh sighed. “I know.” She hated being unable to agree with Datak. He was her best friend, but Alak had brought Luke into her office two weeks earlier for a routine check up, and Meh couldn’t help noticing that Alak still wore a glove to cover the gruesome scars Datak had left on his hand. It shouldn’t have bothered her, but she had grown softer every year since becoming a doctor in Defiance. The brutal experiments she performed on alien children in the past had begun to torment her thoughts, and it was her job to heal people now. She couldn’t imagine a father treating a child like Alak so cruelly. He was incapable of doing anything worthy of such punishment.

“He’s trying to end my business, my entire livelihood.”

“He wants you to stop hurting people,” Meh tried to calmly reason with Datak. “He’s too empathetic for his own good.” 

“Who am I hurting?” Datak snapped.

“Two Adreno addicts died in this clinic last night.” 

Datak scoffed. “Their addiction is hardly my fault. I provide a product. No one’s forcing them to purchase it.” 

“You enable them, and we both know your supply isn’t entirely synthetic. Your biomen find impoverished people willing to sell themselves for a bit of scrip. And they don’t always survive the process.”

“I pay them well.” 

“That doesn’t make it right, just like the guns you’re smuggling into this town.” 

“Who’s side are you on?” 

“Yours.” Meh folded her arms. “You know I’m no saint, and I am capable of committing reprehensible acts if I need to, but if you want to convince your son to come back, you need to understand his perspective. You need to understand that he cares about the people you don’t. He cares about strangers more than you and I will ever be capable of.” 

“Why should he care about them? Not a single one of them would return the favor. They’d sell him out without hesitation.”

“He knows this, and he still wants to help them.” 

“Then he should also know that he needs someone he can rely on when they inevitably turn on him, and the only people you can rely on in this world are your family.  _ I  _ am his family, and I would die for him, yet he spends more time with the mayor and Nolan than he does with me.” 

Meh considered her words carefully, acutely aware of how close she was to permanently offending Datak. “The mayor has never beat him or scarred him.” 

“The mayor has no children, and neither do you. Neither of you understands what needs to be done to prevent children from stepping out of line.” 

Meh ignored his meager attempt at insulting her. “Alak crossed that line long ago. He’s never going to be the heir to your empire.”

“And I have allowed him that privilege,” Datak said, “but if he dares to fight me, I will fight back.”

“What happened to being willing to die for him?”

“He has forced my hand, and I will not kill him, but I will not kneel before him like a peasant.”


	4. Stahma

With a quivering hand, Stahma carefully brushed dirt away from Kenya's fragile human skeleton. Her gloved fingers grazed across her bones like a whisper, fearful that the slightest pressure might shatter them. 

Dust stung Stahma's eyes, dark stains permanently settling into her favorite coat, but she needed to wear that coat as she crouched among the insects. She had no other choice. It was the coat she wore the day she killed Kenya, and it was the coat she needed to wear the day she pulled Kenya from the cold, hard ground where she had abandoned her.

A shiver ran along her spine as she slipped a bundle of papers and the seemingly innocuous device inside Kenya's rib cage. She thumbed the pages, her testimony to whichever god would listen to her pleas. It did not matter to her which god answered her prayers as long as they offered her the redemption she sought. 

Alina insisted such testimony was an unnecessary waste of time. She had convinced herself that science was the only logical key to reviving Kenya, and while Stahma had never been particularly religious in the past, she wouldn't dare skip the step that offered her the forgiveness that she needed as much as she needed Kenya. 

This was her only hope. 

No more waiting.

If everything went according to plan, the device would retrieve Kenya's mind, her memories, her soul - everything that made her Kenya Rosewater. It would restore her exactly as she was in the minutes before death - no memories would be lost, no decay would ravage her body. 

With a prayer and a smooth flick of her wrist, Stahma lit a match and tossed it onto the papers before slithering away from Kenya's burning skeleton, giving her ample space to wake up. She knew how particular humans could be about their space, and she didn't want to frighten her.

The flames burst into the air, engulfing the skeleton with supernatural force. Stahma’s eyes widened in surprise as a nervous smile crept onto her face. Then, the flames extinguished in a cloud of black smoke, and Stahma couldn't help but turn away as a coughing fit overtook her.

Smoke and dirt burned at Stahma's throat as she struggled to breathe. She waved the smoke away, desperate to see Kenya’s face, but the thick smoke continued to cloud her vision. Fighting against it was pointless, so closed her eyes and waited until her breathing slowed and the smoke settled. 

As she took her first clear breath, she knew it was safe to open her eyes, but she hesitated, terrified of failure. She gathered her thoughts, taking slow, steady breaths until she was prepared to handle any possible outcome. And, until she opened her eyes, she truly believed she was prepared for anything, but nothing could have prepared her for the way her heart nearly burst from her chest at the sight of the woman she loved. A woman more beautiful and radiant than she remembered.

"Kenya," Stahma gasped as she crawled through the leaves until she was holding two fingers to Kenya's neck, unable to believe her eyes until she felt the rush of blood pulsing beneath her skin. "My dear, sweet human."

Never taking her eyes off her beautiful human, she removed her stained gloves and tossed them aside. "It's time to wake up now." She brushed a smudge of ash away from Kenya's rosy cheek, but Kenya did not stir. 

Stahma’s long hair fell across Kenya's chest as she smelled her delicious human scent, unmasked by the perfumes she usually wore. This woman was undoubtedly Kenya Rosewater, exactly as Stahma had buried her, still wearing that strange feathered coat and her long, dark hair extensions. 

As Stahma basked in Kenya’s scent, Kenya’s eyes flickered open, looking directly into Stahma's. "Stahma?" 

"Hello,” Stahma whispered as she sat up beside Kenya, and straightened her hair with embarrassment. 

"What happened?" Kenya slowly blinked her eyes as if she had just emerged from a deep sleep. 

"You woke up." Stahma willed her voice to be strong, but it wavered in anticipation of Kenya's reaction. It was time to face her punishment. Kenya had spent years in the cold ground, unmoving, unthinking. She had no reason to trust Stahma.

"Sleep?" Kenya pushed herself up, dirt falling from her back. "I went to sleep in the woods?" Curiosity marred her peaceful expression. "Stahma, what are we doing out here?"

"We went for a walk." 

Kenya brushed her hands together rapidly, shaking away the dirt as best she could. "Don't tell me the noble Castithan woman managed to tell a joke so dirty that her whore fainted like a 19th-century girl in a corset." Kenya's eyes sparkled like nothing had happened, like Stahma had never betrayed her and handed her a poisoned flask. 

"Not exactly." Stahma placed her hand on the side of Kenya's face, her thumb caressing Kenya's cheek with a sense of urgency. Once Kenya remembered what Stahma had done, she would never allow such intimacy again.

"I didn't think so." Kenya smiled as she looked into Stahma's eyes with a pure love that cut through Stahma’s heart like a sword. "Are you nervous?" she asked as she placed a reassuring hand on Stahma's thigh.

"Yes."

"I suppose when someone faints in front of you, that's a natural reaction," Kenya said, piecing together a logical order of events. "Why don't I remember?" Kenya stood, walking in a slow circle as she tried to place her surroundings. "What's going on? And why am I covered in so much dirt?" She crumbled the dirt between her fingers. "It's almost like ash from a fire." 

"What do you remember?" Stahma's soul ached as she asked the question. She desperately wanted Kenya to stay as happy and naive as she was in that moment, but she deserved to know the truth of what happened to her. It would be impossible to hide.

"I don't… I don't know… I remember..." Kenya's face fell as she looked over Stahma's shoulder, her eyes focused on a day in the past. "I remember you asking me to meet you out here... You wanted to run away together." Her words were slow as her memories returned to her.

"Yes." Stahma stood still, barely breathing.

"You betrayed my trust, my sister, Nolan…" Kenya Met Stahma's gaze. "That kid died because of your lies. You were willing to risk an innocent life so that my sister would lose the election." She stumbled backwards, away from her murderer. "You had a flask."

"Kenya-" Stahma closed the distance between them, and reached to touch Kenya as she had only moments earlier, but this time Kenya pushed Stahma away. 

"Did you drug me?" 

Stahma regained her footing, and calmly stated, "Yes."

Kenya narrowed her eyes. "Why?"

"Datak asked me to kill you." 

"He asked you to kill me…" Kenya's expression softened as her anger turned to pity. "Please tell me you see it now. Tell me you understand how cruel he is."

"I do." A soft, proud smile crossed Stahma's face. "I understand the world so much better now. I should have denied him without hesitation. It seems so obvious, but I was ignorant, so painfully ignorant."

"I'm happy for you, Stahma. I really am, but if you can see the truth now, why did you still bring me out here and drug me?"

"I didn't realize that soon enough." 

"You chickened out? Had your epiphany after we got here?"

"No, I did not... chicken out." Stahma forced the strange human expression out of her mouth. "I did as my husband demanded, as a good Castithan wife would do." 

"And you used the wrong poison bottle?" Kenya grew increasingly impatient with every second Stahma stalled, all her natural kindness gone from her face. "You picked the roofie bottle instead?"

"No, I knew exactly what poison to use," Stahma stated as calmly as she could. "I meticulously planned every detail. I had no room for error."

"Stahma, I'm not going to stand here and play a guessing game with you. Just tell me what's going on so I can get back to Amanda.” A pained expression cut through her frustration. “I’m worried about her."

"She's fine."

"Of course she's not fine. She's going to drink herself into a coma if I leave her alone for too long. Her entire identity is tied to her job, a job she worked her entire life to get, and she lost it in an instant. I know my sister, and there’s no way she's fine."

"She is with Nolan, Irisa, and her friends at the NeedWant," Stahma said. Her words were stiff, stilted, overly formal. "They are all fine. They are having a party."

"A party?" Kenya gently shook her head in disbelief. "I... I guess that’s one way to handle sudden unemployment and a debilitating sense of failure."

Stahma forced herself to smile with her lips pressed together as she bowed her head lightly. She wished Kenya were calm enough to hear her explanation, but when she rehearsed this moment in her head, she never imagined a scenario where Kenya was calm.

"I still need to be there for her," Kenya continued, her voice softening as she spoke of her sister's pain. "I can't be out in the woods with you, Stahma. Not when my sister needs me." The malice in Kenya's voice as she said Stahma's name hit her like a bullet, a bullet she knew she deserved.

"She didn't lose an election today." 

"How?" Kenya shook her head in confusion. "Did they recount the ballots?" 

"No."

"What aren't you telling me? Why do you keep prolonging this?" 

"We should go back to town." Stahma stepped forward, instinctively reaching to take Kenya's hand in her own before quickly realizing her mistake and folding her hands politely in front of herself. "It's a long walk, and I have so many things I need to tell you, and so many more I want to tell you."

"I'm not going anywhere with you." Kenya reached into her coat, looking down as her hand came up empty. "You took my gun?"

"It was a lawkeeper's gun. I couldn't possibly leave it unattended in the woods as evidence of my crime, so I disposed of it."

"You disposed of it? When?" Kenya's voice grew frantic, tears brimming in her eyes. "Where have I been?"

"There's no simple answer to that question," Stahma said. "At least not one I could possibly give."

Kenya turned away from Stahma, examining her surroundings for the answers Stahma withheld. "A purple gravestone." Her voice cracked as the danger she faced five years earlier finally became clear. "You were afraid of leaving a gun behind, but you brought a gravestone?" 

"I had a considerable amount of time between hiding the gun and placing the grave. When I hid the gun, I was behaving rationally. When I placed the grave, I was not. I was emotional." Stahma gave Kenya a sad smile. "I missed you more than I ever thought possible." 

"You missed me," Kenya hissed. "Has it been days? Weeks?"

"Longer."

"Longer than weeks?" Kenya paused, waiting for a reply that Stahma could not bring herself to give. "I feel fine, absolutely fine. Stahma, how could I be unconscious in the woods that long and be fine? How could I still be alive?" Her crisp words bit at Stahma's resolve. "Have you done something to my memories? Did you send me away, thinking I wouldn't notice time had passed?"

“I’m so sorry,” Stahma began to plead for forgiveness before gathering her emotions and starting again. "The truth is so much worse than you can imagine. I killed you and buried in this spot. I know it must be hard to believe, but it is the truth." Stahma straightened her shoulders, prepared to face a great battle. “And I brought you back.”

Kenya's mouth fell open as she stared at Stahma in stunned silence. Humans did not function well when shocked. Stahma knew this from years of experience exploiting shocked humans to her advantage, but for once, that's not what she wanted. For once, she needed Kenya to be clear headed. 

"I have rehearsed every possible way to explain what you've suffered, but I don't think there is a good way to explain it." Stahma smiled politely. "Walk with me, please." Once again, she reached for Kenya's arm, and once again, Kenya pulled away. 

"Why would I go anywhere with you?” Kenya asked. “Clearly, you are the biggest mistake of my life. I may not understand what you did to me, but I am certain of that." 

“And you are correct.” Stahma looked to the ground. “I hurt you.” After a moment, she found her confidence and met Kenya’s gaze. "But everything I have said today is the truth. I will not lie to you, not anymore." 

"I know what you think of humans, Stahma, but I'm not an idiot."

"Please, Kenya, I'm begging for you to listen." Stahma stared into Kenya's blue eyes, praying Kenya could see into her soul and understand how deeply she regretted the crimes she committed against her. “Please.”

"Ok, fine." Kenya's voice softened as if she were indulging a child who insisted his nightmare was real. "Let's pretend I believe you. How long has it been? What's the world like now? Is the Internet back because I'd really appreciate that. You see, when I was four, I begged my mother to give me an Instagram account, but she said no, and I'd really like to post photos of the arch at sunset."

"I don't know what Instagram is," Stahma stated calmly, "but it has only been five years since your death, and the Internet's not back, but Amanda is the mayor again. She’s finally happy with her life, and I know that will please you more than anything else I could tell you of the world. Yes, she did lose the election the day you died, but her second successor left the position vacant the following year, and Amanda stepped in to fill the remainder of his term." 

"She-" 

"Please, let me continue," Stahma begged. She feared if she let Kenya interrupt, she would never again have the opportunity to say everything she needed to say. "When I finish, you can say whatever you would like. You can yell obscenities at me, and you have every reason to." 

Kenya nodded despite the apprehension in her eyes.

"Your sister has become a very popular mayor after leading the town through some troubling situations. Life was difficult for all of us, but Defiance is thriving now and so is the NeedWant which Amanda kept open in your honor. The Omec survived, and they live among us in peace… relative peace. Some people still struggle to accept them, but life is better now than it was five years ago. Even the spirit riders have come to respect Amanda’s leadership. So much has changed since you left us. Some of that change has been for the better and some for the worse. People have died. I cannot shield you from that painful truth, but many of your friends are still in Defiance, and they all want you back in their lives.” Stahma smiled. “And if I can ever earn your trust again, I want you back in mine." 

Kenya listened to Stahma's entire speech, her face expressionless until she let out an abrupt laugh, turning her head to the side as she gently shook her head. "I've heard a lot of bullshit in my life, Stahma, but that was good, so good. I know better than to underestimate you, but that was a lot even for you."

"I know it's hard to believe, but it's not bullshit. It's the truth."

"Stahma, people don't come back from the dead after five years." 

"I know how hard it is to believe, but that's why I need you to come with me. I can show you proof that time has passed, and then we will go to your sister. I know you will listen to her even if you will never listen to me."

Kenya looked Stahma up and down. "Fine." She shrugged. “What other choice do I have?” 

"Thank you." 

"Don't thank me. This doesn't mean I trust you."

"I never expect you to trust me again."

  
  


 


	5. Kenya

Orange leaves crunched beneath Kenya's feet, and birds chirped overhead, but she and Stahma maintained a frigid silence as they ambled between trees, making their way into town. The silence was somewhat unnerving, but Kenya didn't have anything to say. She was still trying (and failing) to make sense of everything she had learned.

Stahma's story horrified Kenya, and that horror was only eclipsed by the possibility that something else, something much worse, may have happened to her. If five years had truly passed, there was no telling where she may have been or what may have happened to her. It seemed more logical that Stahma had drugged Kenya and erased her memory than that Kenya had been dead for five years. 

She stared at the back of Stahma's head, wishing she could read her mind. It would be the only way to alleviate Kenya's doubts, but as lost as Kenya felt, she was certain of one thing. Their current predicament was entirely Stahma's fault.

Looking back, Kenya understood that she never should have trusted Stahma, not even to the limited extent that she had. She always knew Stahma was capable of great cruelty, but she also believed Stahma was capable of changing, of freeing herself from her abusive husband. 

That was foolish. 

But Kenya had always been foolish, always relying on her big sister to save her from herself, never learning to survive on her own. She had never needed to, but she couldn't blame Amanda for her poor instincts. Amanda had tried to teach Kenya everything she knew, but Kenya didn't always want to listen. Danger called to her in a way it never called to Amanda.

Her big sister was the voice of her conscience, and if Amanda had known about her affair with Stahma, she would have told her to end it. She would have told her that Stahma had made her choice, and reminded her that Kenya herself had never listened when people told her to leave Hunter. Only Kenya could make that choice for herself. No one likes to be told that the husband they love is too dangerous to be with. 

But Datak wasn't the dangerous one, and Stahma wasn't anything like Kenya. She knew that now. It was Stahma who set up a teenage boy, a child, to die for her husband's political aspirations, and Kenya had helped her do it. She could hardly think about her part in Stahma's scheme without crying or punching a wall. If she hadn't been so naive, she never would have believed Stahma's lies, and she never would have led Nolan to believe those same lies. He was simply doing his job, killing the man who aimed a gun at the mayor's head before he assassinated her. 

That kid would still be alive if Kenya were smarter, if she had told Nolan and Amanda the truth. But she didn't. She had refused to admit that Stahma was her source because she knew they would have been too skeptical. And they would have been right. 

Maybe Kenya cared too much, but that boy's death was on her hands. 

Stahma was her problem to solve, so she took Amanda's gun and followed Stahma into the woods, hoping for a confession, prepared for the worst. She would clear Amanda and Nolan from the shame of that kid's death, one way or the other.

It was a noble reason to follow Stahma, but it wasn't the only reason. In truth, Kenya was drawn to Stahma like a moth to the flame. Stahma fascinated her, infuriated her, made her act irrationally. Her sweetness was infused with an intoxicating dangerousness that fueled Kenya's fantasies. 

As much as she wanted vengeance, she also wanted to believe they could run away together, leaving all responsibility behind. It would have been so easy, so romantic, so dangerous. And Kenya had been growing bored with her life in Defiance. It had been too many years since she had last run off into the sunset, chasing a scandalous affair that would blow up in her face. She was long overdue for another adventure, but this wasn't the adventure she had dreamed of. This was a nightmare.

"Look up at the arch," Stahma said.

Kenya's eyes followed the direction of Stahma's slender finger. "Oh god," she said through a breath, her stomach twisting in knots as the hair on the back of her neck stood up straight. The St. Louis arch had been destroyed. Their greatest symbol of survival was gone. Only two tattered towers remained. "What happened?"

"The VC," Stahma answered like a tour guide for the apocalypse. "There's much more to that story, and I promise to tell you the rest later, but you don't need to know that yet. There are other, more important things to focus on right now."

The knot in Kenya's stomach tightened. "But the arch survived the war. It survived terraforming. And now it's just…" Kenya tore her gaze away from the sky to look at Stahma. "It's gone?" 

"It was a great tragedy to lose the arch, but the town came together to turn it into something new, something beautiful in its own right." 

"I need to talk to Amanda." Kenya ran, adrenaline flowing through her body, every thought in her mind demanding that she find Amanda. Her sister would tell her the truth. Her sister would make everything ok. She was the only one in the whole world Kenya knew she could count on unconditionally, so she ran until her side ached, until she couldn't run anymore.

"Thank Rayetso you stopped," Stahma said, breathlessly catching up to her as they stepped onto a gravel road that cut between stacked shipping containers that had been converted into a quaint neighborhood. "I have never run that far in my entire life."

"I'm a big girl." Kenya didn't bother to look in Stahma's direction as she spoke. "You didn't have to follow me."

"Yes, I did," Stahma said. "I'm responsible for keeping you safe and returning you to your sister."

"I'm not a lost puppy," Kenya snapped. 

"That's not what I meant," Stahma said as they slipped into a dirty alley, wet paper crumpling around their feet. 

"I know, ok… let's just…" Kenya took a deep breath and pushed aside her anger. Emotion would only distract her from finding the truth. "Let's just go to Amanda."

Stahma nodded, following silently alongside Kenya as they continued into downtown Defiance. They didn't say a word to each other, but Kenya was relieved to have a familiar face by her side as she entered her unfamiliar town. Anything was better than being alone, even if her only friend was also her murderer. 

Kenya absorbed the scenery, noting every new building and repainted home. She skimmed the headlines of every poster taped to every wall, not stopping until she saw a wilted campaign poster featuring her sister's smiling face beckoning for her vote.

"The braid," Kenya said.

"Yes, she does still wear her hair like that." 

"Of course she does." Kenya's smile grew as the knot in her stomach loosened. "It's just... in the last election posters, she wore that horrible dress and tied her hair back because she wanted to look professional. The woman on that poster wasn't my sister, but this… this is Amanda, the woman who deserves to be mayor, not the woman pretending to look the part." 

"She won this time." Stahma stood at Kenya's side, the sleeves of their coats rustling as they brushed against each other. "I even voted for her."

"Does she know about me?" Kenya asked, turning to face Stahma.

"She knows you were dead." Stahma met Kenya's gaze with apprehension. "She knows I poisoned you, and she's never forgiven me for it."

"And now? Does she know you brought me back?" 

"No," Stahma said. "I did not, could not, tell her what I was planning."

"Why not? Shouldn't she be happy?"

"She and I are not on friendly terms, and the technology I used to bring you back is rare, costly, and controversial. I didn't exactly obtain it legally. I'd be hung for treason if I told the mayor half of the things required of me to bring you back."

"Murder?" Kenya asked, feeling sick to her stomach.

"I am not proud, but yes." 

"So you killed someone... You took someone else's life, in exchange for mine."

"Yes."

"You don't see the problem with that?"

"I am selfish. I acted in my own personal interests, but they were not good people. They were murderers and thieves who had done nothing to deserve their riches, but you, Kenya, you deserve everything this world has to offer."

"They?" Kenya's stomach flipped. "How many?"

"Only the ones who stood in my way, the ones who didn't understand I was serious."

"So, what…" A sense of panic rose within Kenya, and she struggled to breathe. Yesterday, one teenager had died for Stahma's schemes. Today, there was a wall of faceless ghosts between them. "I have their deaths on my hands?"

"No." Stahma stepped forward, forcefully cupping Kenya's face in her hand. "My sweet Kenya, that will forever be my burden and mine alone." 

"So why are you telling me all of this if you couldn't tell Amanda?"

"I made a vow not to lie to you anymore," Stahma said with such sincerity that Kenya almost forgot how much pain she had caused her. "It was my promise to the gods." Stahma caressed Kenya's cheek with her thumb. "And my promise to you." 

"To me…" 

"Yes." Stahma brushed her lips against Kenya's and whispered, "only you."

Kenya closed her eyes and muttered, "shtako" under her breath. She was too easily swayed by soft lips and romantic words. 

Kenya took a breath, opened her eyes, and placed her hand over Stahma's. "Thank you." 

Stahma relaxed, and Kenya hated that she wanted to forgive her, hated how easily Stahma had gained her sympathy. There was no logical reason she should feel sorry for the murderous alien who betrayed her, but she couldn't help it. She looked so sad and so beautiful, like a work of art lost in a filthy alley.

"No more lying," Kenya continued. "It's something." All their problems had started the day Stahma had lied to her to manipulate the election. Her lies had been the source of their undoing, and if there were no more lies, then maybe... "It's not enough, but it's a start."

"I am trying my hardest to make up for what I did to you, and I will not stop trying." 

"I hope that's the truth."

"It is." 

"Good."

They exchanged a smile and resumed their silent walk until they reached the NeedWant, the bar and brothel that Kenya had put her entire heart and soul into. 

"It looks the same," Kenya said. 

"It's somewhat different inside, but it's still your NeedWant at heart," Stahma said. "Go." She motioned for Kenya to step forward.

Kenya nodded, her nerves on fire as she pulled open the NeedWant doors. Standing outside, she had felt like she might spontaneously combust, but when she saw the purple wallpaper and smelled the alcohol in the air, Kenya's stress began to melt away. She felt the comfort of returning home after a long day. Her NeedWant was almost precisely as she left it except for the streamers and balloons hanging from the second-floor balcony. A party. Just like Stahma said.

"Happy Birthday!" shouted a small group of people at the bar as Nolan and a brunette woman Kenya didn't recognize walked across the room carrying an oversized cake that could feed the party five times over.

Kenya watched, transfixed as Amanda blew out the candles and wrapped an arm over each of their shoulders, pulling them into a hug. Then she kissed Nolan with more passion than Kenya had seen Amanda display in at least a decade, possibly ever. And Nolan kissed her back, glowing with more love than he had ever shown Kenya.

"Have you ever seen A Christmas Carol?" Kenya asked Stahma as they stood in the doorway, unnoticed by the crowd. Two trespassers at a private party.

"No," Stahma said. "I've not seen many human films."

"Well, in the movie, an old man is woken up in the middle of the night by three ghosts who show him his past, present, and future."

"A strange film."

"Yes, and I'm starting to think you're my strange ghost of birthdays future. If I don't get my act together, I'll wind up dead while my sister dates my ex more successfully than I ever did, and she replaces me with a new version."

"Oh," Stahma said, a dawning realization in her voice. "You didn't know about Nolan and Amanda." 

"No."

"I forgot how particular you humans are about these situations."

"Not so particular," Kenya said. "It's ok. I knew she had a crush on him, but I didn't know it was serious." Kenya shrugged. "If he makes her happy, I don't care. I just..." Kenya smiled, mimicking her sister's happy expression. "She doesn't smile like that often."

"She does more now. She's made a little family for herself."

"A family." Kenya pursed her lips to squelch the lump in her throat. "That I'm not a part of." She didn't bother to hide how much Stahma's words stung. If Stahma wasn't going to lie to her, then she wasn't going to lie to Stahma. For better or worse, that was their relationship now. 

"No, Kenya, No," Stahma said. "It's not like that. She made this new family because she had to, not because she wanted to. You left a hole in her heart that no one could ever fill."

Kenya nodded, stabilizing her nerves. "I know. Of course I know." She let out a breath, burying every horrible emotion that threatened to spill over. She knew better than to doubt her sister's love for her. It was the one constant in her life. 

"She misses you," Stahma said.

"So why am I so nervous?" 

"Go to her." 

And so Kenya went to her sister with her heart pounding in her chest. Nolan spotted her first, staring at her like a ghost as he tugged on Amanda's sleeve. Amanda turned to him with a questioning grin on her face, but he never took her eyes off Kenya. 

Amanda's mouth formed the word "what," but Kenya was too far away to hear her voice over the music, so she simply watched as Amanda followed Nolan's gaze, her brow furrowing in confusion. Kenya thought her heart might explode. The NeedWant suddenly seemed a mile long.

"Hi," Kenya said as soon as she reached her sister, her pulse pounding so hard she could hear it in her head.

"You came back," Amanda said, her voice as cold as ice. "I thought you said you didn't want to play house with a human." Her words were terse and twinged with bitterness. 

"What are you talking about?" Kenya took another step forward, her heart shattering as her sister looked at her with more disdain than Kenya could have ever thought possible. "Amanda, it's me. It's Kenya. Your sister." 

Stahma rushed forward, putting herself between the sisters. "She's not who you think she is," she said to Amanda. 

"I'm your sister," Kenya said around Stahma, hoping Amanda would see the truth in her eyes. Amanda knew her better than anyone else. How could her own sister not recognize her?

"That's quite the change of heart from insulting me and trying to break my arm." Amanda scoffed, quickly glancing at Nolan and the brunette woman for backup, but they just looked confused. "I already gave you a chance, and you blew it."

"I don't know what you're talking about." A tear rolled down Kenya's cheek, and she brushed it away. This was all wrong, worse than any nightmare. Amanda was supposed to cry and wrap her arms around her. She was supposed to tell her how much she loved her and that everything would be ok. Amanda always made everything ok. 

"Please, let me explain," Stahma said as she began telling Amanda the whole story. Kenya watched Amanda's face, reading every minute expression on her face as Stahma spoke, waiting for Amanda to see the truth, but she never did. 

"You honestly expect me to believe that?" Amanda asked, her jaw tight with frustration.

"Yes," Stahma said. "I know I have betrayed you more times than I can count, but I wouldn't lie to you about this. Not about her. You know how much I love Kenya. It's the only thing I've ever truly let you know about me." 

Kenya's brain froze, panic rising in her chest. This was all too much to take. Amanda hated her, and Stahma loved her. If she learned anything new, she worried her mind might actually shut down in shock. 

"I wanted to bring her back to us both," Stahma said to Amanda. "And I did." She smiled with pride. "She's back, Amanda. Your sister." 

Kenya stepped forward, reaching for Amanda's hand. This would be it, the reunion she needed.

"Don't touch me." Amanda yanked her arm away and rushed toward the door.

"Amanda!" Nolan called, but Amanda didn't turn back.

"I have a lot of questions," Nolan said to Kenya, "but I'm sorry, I have to…" he gestured in Amanda's direction before running after her. 

"Ok," Kenya muttered, her entire body going numb. "I never thought Amanda would turn on me."

"You're not the first woman to claim to be her sister." Irisa stepped forward, positioning herself beside the brunette woman. "And it's not exactly an easy story to believe." She glanced at Stahma with malice in her eyes. "Or a believable source." 

"Irisa, hi." Kenya smiled with relief at the sight of a friendly face that didn't belong to her murderer. "You changed your hair. I like it." 

Irisa nodded. "Are you ok?"

"Yeah, of course. Yeah. I'm fine. Of course. You know how it is, coming back from the dead." 

"No." Irisa tilted her head to the side, staring into Kenya's eyes as if she could see into her soul. 

Irisa's intensity unnerved Kenya, and she couldn't hold her gaze. Her eyes flickered to the brunette woman, the one who seemed so close to her sister and stood so comfortably at Irisa's side that friend didn't seem the right word. She'd worked in the NeedWant long enough to recognize when two people were more than friends. "I don't think I know you," Kenya said to the brunette woman.

"Berlin." She extended her hand, and Kenya shook it. "We never met, but I knew your Indogene clone. I liked her." 

"Indogene clone." Kenya raised her eyebrows and nodded. "Of course, I have an Indogene clone. Why wouldn't I?" It was a hard comment to process, but she chose to take it as a compliment. "But, thank you, I think." 

"You're welcome, and I hope that you and I can be friends," Berlin continued, "but since we don't know each other yet, I figure that makes me the only person in this room willing to do this." Berlin scrunched her nose. "I'm sorry, but it's necessary." She reached across Irisa's back, pulling a knife from her holster and running it across the back of Kenya's hand before Kenya realized what was happening. 

"What the chup," Kenya gasped.

"Red blood," Berlin said with an apologetic smile. "Now we know you're not an Indogene."

Kenya looked down at her hand, watching a thin line of blood trickle over her skin. 

"I'm sorry," Irisa said, shooting a warning look at Berlin. "She's impulsive sometimes." 

"No, it's ok," Kenya said. "Apparently, it needed to be done."

"See." Berlin grinned at Irisa, looking perfectly pleased with herself. "I know what I'm doing. I don't know why everyone keeps doubting that today." 


	6. Amanda

"Don't you want to know who she is?" Nolan asked

"I already know." Amanda pushed through the Saturday morning crowd with Nolan at her side, trying to get as far away as possible from the woman who insisted on torturing her, on lying to her while wearing her sister's face. 

Amanda could hardly imagine a worse end to an otherwise fantastic birthday. This day felt perfectly designed to be her ultimate torture, teasing her with a happy life before yanking it away with a reminder that her sister was dead and another woman had been given her face. She'd been haunted by nightmares exactly like this for years, nightmares of women dressed as her sister repeatedly abandoning her. And just as those nightmares faded, just as Amanda finally made peace with her sister's death, Stahma flaunted it in her face. 

"There are at least two possibilities," Nolan said. "If not more." 

"No." Amanda shook her head. "There aren't. She's an Indogene who was given my memories by a man who raped and abused me. An Indogene who attacked me when I offered to give her a home. An Indogene who wanted nothing to do with me until Stahma got involved." 

"That's one possibility." Nolan dodged a little girl chasing a ball as he struggled to follow Amanda's erratic path. She couldn't blame him. Amanda didn't even know where she was taking them. "She has enough money to pay anyone to say anything she wants them to say," Nolan continued. 

"It's always Stahma. That woman's sole purpose in life is to ruin mine." Amanda took a breath, struggling to keep her voice from wavering under the weight of the endless pain Stahma had inflicted on her. "I don't know what she wants from me this time or what she offered this woman to play her charade, but I'm not going to fall for it. I'm not going to be Stahma's pawn, and the fact that she would use my sister to get to me is low, even for her."

"If she's trying to hurt you again, I will kick her out of this town myself." His voice was steady, but his tone was gravely serious. "Enough is enough, but when we don't keep our minds open, we get our asses handed to us. Every time."

"This is about my sister, Nolan." 

"I know," he said softly. "I know how hard this is for you, but she's here. That's the reality of the situation. And we have to do something."

"Oh, come on Nolan, don't tell me you believe that load of bullshit." Amanda looked to him without slowing her pace, searching his eyes for her skeptical lawkeeper, and finding her sympathetic boyfriend instead. She turned away. She didn't want sympathy. She wanted him to feel her hate. She wanted him to be her soldier, standing behind her without question.

"Look, I don't know if I believe it, but I'm not ready to rule it out." He grabbed her arm, urging her to listen. "Every ark hunter knows those legends, and we all know someone who's found one of those broken devices. As much as we tried, we could never figure them out, but now the Omec are back, and if anyone knows how to make them work, they would. This is their technology. Not ours."

"Technology that can bring people back to life?"

"Yes."

"That's absurd," she snapped, but Nolan's soft gaze didn't waver. Amanda sighed and rolled her head to the side. "Which doesn't mean impossible, I know. The absurd is a weekly occurrence in Defiance."

"Exactly." Nolan's body visibly relaxed as Amanda calmed. "Stahma knows more about this than we do. It's not inconceivable that she would find a way to bring Kenya back." Nolan paused, hesitant to speak his next words. 

"What?" Amanda asked.

Nolan took a breath, stroking his chin before saying, "Stahma loved Kenya. In her own twisted way, she loved her, and every legend surrounding those devices is a dark love story involving murder or betrayal. She's trying to recreate a legend." 

"You said it yourself - it's just a story." If she hadn't felt like her heart was bursting from the pain of seeing Kenya's face again, she would have found Nolan's sentimentality endearing, but at that moment, she just found it annoying. "Don't tell me you believe Tinkerbell is flying around the arch too."

"Of course not." Nolan gave an embarrassed smile. "And until five minutes ago, I thought those stories were as real as Tinkerbell, but Stahma's story matches the legends exactly. It wouldn't be the first legend based in truth."

"This is different."

"Why?"

"Because I don't trust Stahma, and I don’t believe in miracles." Amanda studied Nolan's face, searching for a sign of doubt. "Don't you see she's using myths to manipulate us. She knows you'll believe something you're familiar with. It's smart."

"You could be right, and maybe for once in my life, I'm the gullible one. Maybe she's found my soft spot, but Votan tech can do things I will never understand. I've seen it with my own eyes, and so have you. I died, and Irisa brought me back to life. I was there. It happened. It's possible."

"But you died the same day she did, and you came back an hour or two later, not years. Your body was still there."

"Any Doctor would tell you that no one is going to wake up from being dead in the dirt with no medical attention for an hour like nothing happened. I'm alive today because there is technology out there with capabilities we just don't understand." 

Amanda's pace slowed as some of her anger gave way to logic. As much as she wanted to, she couldn't argue with his facts. "But you were brought back by ark tech that wanted to use your daughter as a puppet to destroy the world. It wasn't an act of kindness."

"And what if Stahma's the puppet now?" Nolan asked, an almost imperceptible, but very real display of fear in his eyes. Neither of them would ever forget the horror of what happened to Irisa. "The machine that used Irisa is long gone, but if Stahma found something else to sell her soul to, then we might have big problems on our hands. She's always been dangerous and unpredictable on her own. Irisa blew up New York. Stahma might go for the whole planet."

"Shit." Amanda was starting to believe him, starting to think that Stahma's mysterious woman might actually be her sister. She could feel a sense of hope trying to burst through her mental barriers, but hope would make her vulnerable to pain and weakness, and she couldn't let herself go any farther down that path. She couldn't let herself be weak, not again, so she closed her eyes and refocused her energy before turning to Nolan and saying, "Last time Kenya came back, you didn't believe her, and you were right. You warned me, but I refused to see the truth. I was wrong, and I've learned my lesson. The universe takes people away from me. It doesn't give them back."

"I came back from the dead, from seven months unconscious underground, and from an unplanned trip through outer space.” He smiled. “People come back to you. I came back." 

"For Irisa." 

"And for you." Nolan pulled her closer, confusion in his eyes. "When I was stuck on that Omec ship, alone and missing you, I decided that if I ever came home to Defiance, I was done denying what I really wanted. I’d tell you how I felt. And I did. I love you." 

Amanda smiled at the memory. "You walked into town wearing a shirt that was permanently stained by my blood." 

"Hey, cut a guy some slack! It was the only shirt I had." Nolan playfully rolled his eyes. "You're never going to let me live that down, are you?" 

"No, never." Amanda pressed a quick kiss to his lips. "But I'm not questioning whether or not you love me. You've seen me drunk, and high, and foaming at the mouth on the floor. I suffered some of the lowest points of my life with you, and you're still here. If there's anything I question, it's not you." 

"Then what…?" 

"If there really is any god or fate or mysterious force in this universe, it's not on my side," she stated as if it were a basic fact, unquestionable by science. "I'm just a beneficiary of your good fortune. Nothing can kill you. Nothing can keep you away from this damn town. You're here with me because your good luck is canceling out my bad luck." 

"You really believe that?" Nolan furrowed his brow, sadness in his eyes. "You really think the universe doesn't want you to be happy?" 

"Sometimes, yes." 

"Amanda..." He said her name with more pain and sympathy in her voice than she could handle.

"Don't." She shook her head and resumed her aimless walk with Nolan following dutifully at her side. "Just tell me why you believe her now. I need to know why you're so fucking open to this possibility when you were so fucking skeptical last time." 

"Because that woman's story was full of holes. She didn't know why Kenya left Defiance, she didn't know where she had been, and the things she did remember were just weird. Nothing made sense until I realized her strange jumble of memories were your memories, not her own. And this isn't like that. Kenya's story matches what we know, so we need to talk to her and find out if there are any holes."

"No." Amanda couldn't talk to a woman wearing her sister's face, not without breaking down. She wouldn't put herself through that again. She wasn't strong enough to suffer that kind of pain. "I'm not talking to her." 

"You don't have to. I won't make you go through that, but we need to know this town isn't in danger." Nolan shook his head lightly. "Her story..."

"It was Stahma's story. That woman hardly said a word." Amanda's eyes darted in every direction. She had brought them to a dead-end, and there were too many people around, too many people she couldn't let see her weakness. They were trapped in a crowd, so she forced a smile onto her face. "This isn't my problem. I don't care." 

Nolan looked into her eyes, silently taking her hand and leading her down a secluded alley between buildings. 

"Of course you care," Nolan said when they were alone.

"I don't."

"No one's watching, ok." His voice softened as he held her hands in his. "It's just you and me here. You don't need to pretend. I know you care. You care about everything, and I love you for it." 

"Fine, I care." Amanda wanted to fall into his arms and cry. She'd done it a million times before, but she couldn't risk losing her resolve. "I care, but I am trying so hard not to because I can't watch a stranger smile at me the way only Kenya should be able to. Pottinger stole every memory of my sister and turned them into a walking reminder of what Stahma took from me." Amanda looked down, toying with the cuff of Nolan's shirt to avoid eye contact. "I can't investigate her story. I can't treat her impartially. I just want her to leave." 

Nolan watched her without saying a word.

"If she's who I think she is," Amanda said, barely keeping her emotions under control, "if she's a pawn in a scheme, then she has a right to live her life. Pottinger tortured that Indogene woman, and I know she didn't ask to be abused like that, but neither did I." Amanda shook her head, tears forming in her eyes just when she thought she would be able to get through this conversation without crying. "How many times is a woman going to walk into this town claiming to be my sister?" her voice cracked. "I was happy this morning, remember." 

"Yeah." He nodded, a faint smile breaking through his pained expression. "It was a good morning."

"Can we just go back to that?" Amanda sniffled. "Why can't we just stay that way? Why can't we be happy forever? Why can't it be easy?" 

"Life just doesn't work that way." Nolan squeezed her hand. "But we'll be happy again, and next year, I'll throw you an even better party. With locked doors. No party crashers."

"Promise?"

"Oh, absolutely." He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into a tight hug. "And you'll be fine. You can do this."

"No." Amanda leaned against his chest, taking comfort from him for just a moment. "I can't." She pulled away, finding her strength. "But you're right. You have to find out who she is because you're the lawkeeper, and that's your job. If she's dangerous, you arrest her. If not, let her live her life. Buy her a landcoach ticket and send her away. I'll pay whatever it costs to get rid of her, but I don't need to have any part in this." 

"Ok." Nolan nodded, a million unspoken words in his eyes. "I'll talk to her."

"Good. Because I'm done. I have my own job to do." Amanda turned, leaving Nolan standing alone in the alley. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this fic, Kenya is stuck in season 1 - she thinks Datak Tarr is the new mayor, the E-Rep is alive and kicking, and Christie just married Alak. That's all straight forward, but most of the characters are a few years ahead of where we last saw them. They needed to grow and change.
> 
> So where would Nolan and Amanda be? I didn't want them to still be wavering about their feelings and living in an eternal state of barely-resolved sexual tension. That's one great thing about fanfiction. Characters get to mature in their relationships, so they've got that aspect of their lives largely figured out.
> 
> But no one ever has everything figured out. These characters suffered a lot. At the end of season 3, I think Nolan and Amanda were in worse mental shape than when the series started, and it had a lasting impact on them both. 
> 
> Amanda's still dealing with a lifetime of trauma. She was abandoned by her mother as a teenager, forced to grow up and raise a sister who later died young, and was raped by a man who later stalked her, filmed her getting high and having sex with Nolan without either of their consent, stole her memories, and manipulated her into thinking he was the perfect man for her. 
> 
> The last time her "sister" came back, it was a trick by the man who abused her in nearly every way possible to abuse a person. Amanda's not going to ever just be 100% ok after all that. She's so much less trusting of a miracle after learning the truth about Kenya Clone and everything else Pottinger did to her.
> 
> And one thing I've noticed about Amanda is that while she has an incredibly optimistic outlook for the future of the world and she gained a lot of confidence in her ability to be mayor, she was developing a much more pessimistic outlook on her personal life. By the end of season 3, she thinks the world will survive and humans and Votans will learn to get along, but she doesn't expect personal happiness. She was ready to die a martyr for the town, dedicating her life to a cause. 
> 
> I didn't want to sweep that aspect of her character under the rug, but I didn't want to leave her there languishing. She needed to grow and find some happiness. She's fully confident in her ability to lead the town after having years of experience. She knows she earned her position as mayor. It's an aspect of her life that she has no doubts about. And Nolan came back to her. All that they suffered inspired them to finally admit to their feelings and let themselves be happy. It was more important than ever.
> 
> But now, even though she's happier than she was before, she's still scarred by the trauma and abuse she suffered. She remembers how terrible she felt in season 2, and she's terrified of feeling like that again. Occasionally amazing things happen to her, but traumatic, soul crushing things happen more often.


	7. Kenya

Few people remained in the NeedWant after Amanda's party came to a crashing halt, but curious customers soon began trickling in as rumor of Kenya's return began to spread. They watched her from afar, ordering second and third drinks to stay in her presence, but no one dared to speak to her. No one dared to treat her like a person. She was simply a spectacle to the small, but growing crowd of strangers who watched her.

Kenya tried to ignore the way their focused gazes made her skin crawl. After all, they were her paying customers, and she was hardly unaccustomed to being watched. Her entire career depended on strangers taking an interest in her, so it shouldn't have bothered her, but it did. Their attention wasn’t the kind she craved.

The last time she had strolled through the NeedWant, her stilettos had clicked confidently against the floor as potential clients summoned the courage to ask her upstairs, money clutched tightly in their hands. She had power over them, and without it, she felt small, like a leper in her own bar. 

Once upon a time, she could have pulled any one of these customers into her bedroom, but now, they gossiped about her, not caring that she could hear their speculation. She was hardly real to them, nothing more than a strange supernatural phenomenon. Her customers had turned on her, and she only had her ex-lover's daughter to keep her company. Even Stahma had disappeared with a vague excuse and a promise to return.

"Do you need anything?" Irisa asked. "Water? Alcohol? A sandwich?"

"I don't know." Kenya tried to smile but wasn't sure if she succeeded. She didn't feel capable of smiling. "I'm mostly numb."

"I can't imagine losing five years," Irisa said. "I once lost seven months of my life, and it was a challenge to recover from that, but now seven months seems so short in comparison to five years"

"You lost time?"

"It wasn't exactly the same as what you're going through," Irisa said. "I just slept."

"Like sleeping beauty." 

"Less romantic than that. More like an egg yoke," Irisa stated. "What you went through. Death. It's not sleeping."

"You believe me?" Kenya searched Irisa's sympathetic eyes for signs of doubt but didn't find any. She would never have imagined there'd be a day when Irisa was her most loyal friend. In truth, she hardly knew her as anything more than Nolan's daughter. 

"I don't have any reason not to believe you."

"Really?" Kenya's voice cracked, and it took all her strength not to collapse into a sobbing heap in Irisa's arms. 

"Yes." Irisa gave a single nod of her head. "I grew up in the badlands. People get bored. They share stories to pass the time. Some of them are frightening, but some are romantic - Omec kings always revive their fallen soulmates like Stahma revived you." 

"Soulmates?" Kenya's stomach dropped, and her body stiffened. She had never genuinely considered the possibility of a soulmate, not really, not since she was 7 and believed she would marry the main character of an already-canceled Disney Channel series. By the time she was an adult, the prospect of a soulmate had become a silly romantic fantasy, one that sounded nice in theory, but seemed unlikely in reality. And truthfully, the idea of fate binding her to another person was as terrifying as it was romantic. Maybe more so.

"In fairytales, the lovers are always soulmates," Irisa said, "but that’s probably just a myth to make a better story. Every bard and poet has exaggerated the truth to keep their audience engaged."

"I hope so," Kenya said. 

"I don't know what I'd do if Stahma Tarr were my soulmate," Irisa said.

"I don't think I have the mental capacity to handle that right now, not when my sister hates me, and everyone is staring at me like I don't belong in my own home." Kenya took a shaky breath. "One problem at a time. If soulmates are real, I'll deal with that later."

"I'm sorry." Irisa wrapped her arms around Kenya, squeezing her in a tight hug. "I know how much it hurts when the people you love most stop trusting you."

"Thank you," Kenya whispered into Irisa's shoulder, struggling to keep tears from falling, struggling to keep her composure in front of her audience. She held Irisa, unaware of how much time had passed before she gathered her emotions enough to ask, "What happened to you?" 

Irisa pulled away from the hug and looked at her with a strange expression. "What do you mean?" 

"You've changed since the last time I saw you." 

"Everything's changed." Irisa gave a stiff shrug of her shoulders, visibly uncomfortable with Kenya's question. "I grew up." 

"It's more than that." Kenya wrapped a lock of Irisa's long hair around her finger, remembering the choppy style she wore the last time they were together. 

"I grew up the hard way," Irisa clarified. 

Kenya smiled and squeezed Irisa's hand. "Didn't we all?" She knew better than to press Irisa any further, but she hoped to learn the whole story one day.

Irisa returned the smile as Berlin asked, "Can I ask you something?"

"Of course," Kenya said. "I think I better get used to questions, and besides, you two are being nicer to me than anyone else. I owe you."

"Do you remember anything?" Berlin fumbled over her words before adding, "anything about being dead."

"No." Kenya shook her head. "I remember raising my gun to Stahma, and then I woke up on the ground with no recollection of ever falling." Kenya smiled sheepishly. "I know what happens after death is the greatest mystery of all time, but I've been there, and I don't know. Maybe there's nothing, or maybe..." 

"Or maybe the living aren't allowed to remember," Irisa interrupted.

Kenya would have hated to ruin Irisa’s hope of an afterlife, so she simply said, "I wish I knew," but she wasn't sure she had any hope of her own. She didn't feel like any time had passed since she died. No dejavu. No dreams. No sense that she had been anywhere, not even buried in the ground. She had no answers, but somehow she had returned to the living world, and how could she return if she never went anywhere? Unless… No. She couldn’t continue considering possibilities she could never verify. She would remain as clueless as everyone else until the day she died again or until she became fortunate enough to remember something of her time away from the living world.

"It's ok," Irisa said. 

"Yeah," Berlin added. "I was just curious." 

Kenya smiled and echoed Berlin's words. "Just curious - that's how I feel about everyone and everything right now. I have so many questions about so many things." She looked around the NeedWant at all the unfamiliar faces. "Defiance has changed. There's even an entirely new race of aliens."

"Yeah, there is." Berlin took a deep breath, regret in her eyes. "That's one thing to be grateful you missed." 

"What do you mean?"

"We nearly destroyed the planet fighting each other." 

"Again?" The horrors of terraforming flashed through Kenya's thoughts. "There's only so much this planet can take."

"It's our nature." Defeat shone through Irisa's sad eyes. "To fight. To kill. To be scared." 

"But we survived," Berlin added with more optimism than Irisa displayed. "We always do."

"Barely," Irisa said. "But we did. We're still here. And so are the Omec."

"Why were you so scared of them?" Kenya asked. "It's not like that was our first alien invasion. We should have learned from the first time." 

"The Dread Harvest, of course," Berlin said as if Kenya knew what that was. "Plus they have vampire fangs. That scares people." She flashed a lopsided smile. "Not all people, of course. Some people don't care. Not everyone's as shitty a person as many of us were when the Omec first arrived. And some people even find it hot." 

Kenya smiled, and teasingly asked, "People like you?" 

"She finds almost everything hot," Irisa answered for Berlin with a playful sideways glance.

"Hey, don't say that like it's a bad thing," Berlin said. “Vampire fangs, girls with knives, boys with fast cars. It's all irresistible to me."

"Danger is sexy," Kenya agreed.

"Exactly," Berlin said with a wistful smile. "But Irisa prefers the nice ones. It's one of her more surprising qualities. Before meeting her, I used to think everyone liked the bad boys and girls. Even squeaky clean Amanda prefers her men to be a little rough around the edges, but not Irisa. I really had to clean up my act to convince her I was worth more than a fun night."

"She's exaggerating," Irisa said. "But I want to be with someone who makes me a better person, not a worse one. That only seems logical to me."

"Then you must be an amazing person," Kenya said to Berlin, "because Irisa is one of the best people I've ever known."

"Honestly," Berlin said as Irisa blushed stoically, "we were in a rough place when we got together. We were lost and looking for a way to get over some pretty traumatic experiences. Wasn't exactly a fairytale beginning." 

"We became better people together," Irisa added. "We healed."

Kenya's heart warmed, and an unexpected twinge of jealousy coursed through her veins that she tried to push aside. Berlin and Irisa had found what she had hoped to find in her relationship with Stahma, but instead of building love and respect, she and Stahma had been destroyed by murder and betrayal. "That's unbelievably adorable. Inspirational, even. You-" her stomach growled, and she laughed in embarrassment before she could finish her sentence. "You need to tell me all about it over lunch. I definitely need lunch." 

"Absolutely." Berlin grinned. "On one condition." 

"What's that?" Kenya asked. 

"In exchange, you need to tell me all the good dirt on Amanda. I need something to hold over that woman's head the next time I make a mistake."

Kenya grinned. "Deal." 

Over lunch, the three of them smiled, drank, and talked as they ate  - carefully avoiding any complicated subjects. The 2 hours they spent together felt surprisingly ordinary, like they were old friends catching up on life, and by the end of lunch, Kenya felt like a real person again. 

She never wanted Berlin and Irisa to leave, but of course, they had to. They had jobs and a real-life to get back to. They couldn't stay with her forever, so eventually Kenya was left alone, wondering if any of her old night porters still worked in the NeedWant and if one would be willing to keep their recently resurrected boss company. Deirdre had never said no to anyone, always finding a challenge in any customer. If no one else would give her the time of day, she was sure Deirdre would. 

She ordered herself a drink from an unfamiliar bartender, and as she scanned the NeedWant like an average client looking for a night porter, a pale white hand with a perfect manicure set a leather-bound bundle of papers in front of her. 

"I know you are not pleased with me at the moment," Stahma said, "but I need to give you this." 

"What is it?" Kenya thumbed the pages before reaching for the strap that tied them together. 

"Don't." Stahma rested her hand over Kenya's to prevent her from opening the gift. "I don't want to be here when you open it."

"Why?"

"I don't want to pressure you into giving a response, and I fear if I stay, you will tell me something without fully considering what it means." Stahma added, "Take your time," before turning to leave.

"Wait. Don't go." Kenya grabbed Stahma's arm. "These people are treating me like I’m less than human.” She gave Stahma a meek smile. “You're all I have right now." 

"Is that supposed to be a compliment?" Stahma asked with a stern, unreadable expression and cold tone. "I’m your last resort. That’s not much of a reason to stay."

"You killed me, Stahma. What better reason could you possibly expect?" Kenya pushed a chair forward, motioning for Stahma to join her, but Stahma remained standing. "Or maybe drinking with the town pariah is too humiliating for a good castithan woman." 

"I'm not a good Castithan woman anymore. I’m not sure I ever was."

"Then you'll drink with a prostitute." Kenya motioned to the seat beside her, and this time Stahma obediently sat down. "And you'll give me a reason to believe you've changed."

"I've given you my word, my truth."

"You promised not to lie, but everyone lies, Stahma. What if there are things I don't want to know?"

"Then don't ask," Stahma said, a terrifying subtext radiating beneath her calm words.

"I have questions." Kenya rolled her glass between her hands, considering Stahma's warning carefully. "I need to know why you killed me. What's the real reason? No lies. No half-truths. No leaving out information to make yourself look better." 

"My husband demanded it of me." 

"That's it? Obedience?"

"Yes," Stahma said. "I thought killing you myself was an act of kindness, but I was wrong in ways I never could have fathomed at the time. My husband was neither as strong nor as cruel as I imagined him to be. I put him on a pedestal until after your death, but now I see that I was the cruel one, the one who would sacrifice everything for my family." 

Kenya took a drink, trying to process Stahma's words.

"It’s been five years, Kenya, but I still know you. I can see in your eyes that I did not give you the answer you desired."

"No, you didn’t."

"Would you rather I had been the one to want you dead?" Stahma asked. "Would you find it comforting to hear that I killed you out of anger like a jealous man in a fit of rage? Like your ex-husband."

"Yes. No. I don't know." Kenya sighed and rearranged her hair to give her hands something to do. "It would be easier to understand you. To hate you. To forgive you." Kenya took a long slow sip from her glass, biding time as she decided what to say next. "If you killed me because I angered you, then I could make sense of your behavior. Hunter, he couldn't control his anger, and he took it out on me. Eventually, I realized that he wasn’t the type of person I needed to be with. But you? What do I do with you? Are you an abuser or are you a victim yourself?"

"Both," Stahma said, clearly having given the subject much thought. "And I don't know what role I can play in your life today, but I do know I loved you when we were together." 

"How could you kill someone you loved?"

"I'm neither human nor a good person." 

"Stop saying things like that," Kenya snapped. "Stop insisting your entire life is out of your control. You're not a puppet. Your husband doesn’t have his hand up your ass, controlling every terrible word that falls from your mouth. And neither does some god who made you cruel beyond repair. You have choices."

Stahma flinched, straightening her shoulders as she looked to her hands. "You overestimate me."

"No," Kenya said. "You underestimate yourself." 

Kenya stood, staring down into Stahma's mournful eyes. "You're so beautiful, Stahma." It was undeniable. Even the straightest woman or the gayest man in the bar would tell you she was gorgeous. Her beauty went beyond sexuality, beyond attraction. It made people want to believe in her when they knew they shouldn't. "You hide behind it because you know it distracts people from your behavior."

"Says the prostitute." 

"No. I'm nothing like that." Kenya smiled confidently as she shook her head. "When my life was falling apart, I chose to become a prostitute to survive. It came naturally to me. My sister, she scrubbed floors and got coffee for obnoxious politicians, and I could have done that too, but I didn’t want to. I love sex, and I'm proud of that. It’s not a mask I’m hiding behind. This life was entirely my choice, mistakes and all. And you'll never understand what it's like to be me, what it's like to truly live, until you take control of your own life. No excuses. No compromises." 

Kenya leaned down and pressed a soft kiss against Stahma's waiting lips, not knowing if it was a promise for the future or the last kiss they'd ever share. "And when you do that, when you prove to me that you've changed, then we can talk. As equals."

"I fear that you want me to be someone I'm not, someone I could never be."

"No, not at all." Hope swelled in Kenya's heart as she realized she finally knew exactly what she wanted. "I don't want you to be anything other than the driven, passionate woman that you have always been. I simply want you to be the best version of yourself, the version I know you’re capable of becoming."


	8. Alak

"Mayor Rosewater?" Alak knocked on Amanda's open office door, an unexpected nervousness overcoming him as his knuckles hit the wood. He was about to embark on the next stage of his life - which was both exciting and terrifying - but he had thought he was ready to take the leap. He hadn’t expected to be nervous about it. After all, he had been determined to reach this point in his career since the first minute he began working for Amanda.

Before she gave him this job, he was a lost kid, but now, with experience under his belt and a hard-earned moral confidence, he was prepared to escape his parents’ shadow and tell the entire town where he stood. Tomorrow, he’d give a speech that would turn him into the role model his son deserved. He should have been overjoyed, but he knew that publicly going against his parents did not come without risks, and he couldn’t help thinking about what they might do in retaliation.

"How many times do I have to tell you to call me Amanda? Just like everyone else. Just like you always have." She looked up from her desk, a bottle of scotch to her right and a pile of folders to her left. "Nothing's changed."

"I'm trying to be professional," Alak said. "It's a big week, and I can't look like a kid." 

"Then you should know that it's the inexperienced ones who put in the most effort to sound professional. Real professionals are equals in this building, so if you genuinely want to look like you belong here, you'll call me Amanda."

"Ok,  _ Amanda _ ."

"Thank you." Amanda smiled and reached for her scotch. 

"Are you ok?" Alak asked, noticing her pale face and her red eyes. 

"Yeah, I'm fine." Amanda flashed him a painfully false smile. "It's just..." She took a deep breath. "You haven't talked to your mother lately, have you?" 

"No." Alak couldn't quite remember the last time he saw her. "She hasn't been around much lately," he said, deciding it was best not to mention that Stahma had seemed preoccupied for quite a while and hadn’t been visiting Luke as frequently. She was obviously involved in something, but he had hoped it wasn't anything dangerous or illegal. The look on Amanda's face killed those hopes.

"She's been quiet." Amanda took a swig from her glass before pushing it aside, and while Alak had become accustomed to her drinking on the job, this was excessive, even for her. "I wasn't paying attention. I should know better. When she's not making noise, she's up to something."

Alak's stomach dropped. As hard as he tried, he could never escape his family. "What did she do?" 

"I don't know yet." The cryptic tone in Amanda's voice worried Alak. "Nolan's looking into it," she added after a pause.

"Why can't she just join a knitting club like everyone else's mother?” Alak rocked his head from side to side as he recalled the time she joined a book club. “And not murder anyone while she’s there, I mean." Joining the book club had been a ploy to get close to and murder someone for interfering with her business. No one could prove she did it, of course, as she joined months in advance and dutifully stayed in the club for months after the murder, reading every book to avoid suspicion. For all Alak knew, she was still in the club, reading the damn books. She was nothing if not thorough with her alibis. 

Amanda stood and approached Alak as she said, "she keeps us all on our toes." 

"Sometimes, I wish she wouldn't."

"I wish that every day of my life," Amanda said with a heavy voice before putting on a determined smile. "But let's not talk about your mother when we should be talking about your future. Are you ready to stand on that stage with me tomorrow? It's a big deal. The first time I gave a speech in front of a crowd, my hands were shaking so hard I could barely hold my cards." 

"I've never been so nervous about anything." Alak shifted his weight from foot to foot as he forced an appropriate expression of happiness on his face. "Or excited." 

"But?" Amanda asked.

"My father," Alak admitted. 

"If not one, the other." She let out an exhausted sigh. "What did Datak do?"

"He's mad. He says I'm betraying my family and my entire heritage by working for you. I think he hoped this was just a phase, but now it’s getting too real for him."

"Right, of course." Amanda gave a single nod of her head. "His only son turned to the enemy." 

"I don't know what to do." 

"You have to do what you think is right."

Alak nodded, trying to processes the million conflicting thoughts running through his mind.

"Are you having doubts?"

"No,” he stated firmly. As soon as he said it, he knew there was no decision to make. "I am committed to improving life in this town. You don't have to worry about me siding with him or turning on you. The last thing I want to do is help my father corrupt this town, but if I hurt his business, I'm worried that..." He trailed off, unable to admit how much he feared his father would hurt him again. Too often, he reverted to feeling like an abused kid, small and afraid of the dad he just wished would love him for who he was. That feeling motivated him to send a different message to his own son, motivated him to stand up to Datak. He never wanted Luke to feel as conflicted and tormented as Alak felt about his own father.

"You think he'd kill you over this?" Concern flashed through Amanda's eyes. 

"No. He loves me in his own twisted way. I know that, and I’m confident he would never kill me unless I did something truly terrible, but-" Alak held up his hand, showing off the glove he wore to cover the scars his father had branded him with. "I might need another glove." 

"I understand." Amanda nodded, preparing to jump to action. "And if you need protection, I can get you and Luke a secure room for the next few days, give him some time to cool down. I have security people who can watch you. They won't let Datak near you." 

"No. Thank you, but no." Alak took a breath as he fought to find his strength. "It's time to confront my father, time to tell him, and everyone else, what side I'm on."

"You sure?" Amanda asked hesitantly.

"Yes." 

A grin dissolved the remainder of Amanda's worry. "I'm proud of you." 

Alak smiled, looking out the window in embarrassment. "You say that like I'm a kid."

"Do you remember when I used to accompany mayor Nicky on her elementary school visits?" 

"Sort of." 

"Well, I remember them clearly - especially a certain talkative little boy who'd sit in the front row asking questions about everything."

"I'd rather not think about that." Alak grimaced. "It's difficult to impress a boss who remembers when you hardly understood how to multiply two numbers together."

"You don't have to worry about that, Alak." She squeezed his shoulder. "You impress me every day, and besides, you were the nicest, most respectful kid in that school. I always knew you could do great things if you didn't let your parents bring you down."

"Thank you." 

"You're welcome."

"And I can multiply numbers now," Alak rushed to add. "You should know that. I finished school. I’m fully qualified for this job. And I also speak French. Have I ever told you that? I had lessons.  _ So many  _ lessons." 

Amanda laughed as she threw an arm over his shoulders. "I don't need your resume, Alak. I already know how talented you are."

"If you compliment me one more time, I'm going to think you're just trying to boost my ego with endless hollow praise so that I don’t back out of giving my speech."

"Oh, well, in that case, I need to be completely honest with you.” Amanda stepped back and looked him up and down, “Have I mentioned what I think of your shoes?"

"No…"

"They're terrible. They don’t go with that outfit at all." She smiled as she grabbed her things for her next meeting. "Glad to get that off my chest."

—

By the time Alak made it out of Amanda's office with a growling stomach, it was the middle of the afternoon, and he made a beeline for his favorite food cart, focused entirely on the enormous sandwich he planned to order. He hardly even noticed Suli standing in front of him in line as he daydreamed about sandwich bread.

"Hey," Suli said casually, without the excessively chipper tone she reserved for potential clients. 

Alak smiled, realizing it didn’t come off as friendly as intended when Suli asked,   _ Hey _ is the correct greeting, isn't it? I'm still working on my colloquial English. The Omec ship's AI helped us learn a lot, but it wasn't 100% modern English, and if I say groovy one more time, Alina might actually murder me."

“You can say groovy to me any time.” Alak grinned. “I’ve always kind of wished I could visit the ‘60s on Earth.”

“For the music?” 

“Of course. It changed the world,” Alak said before placing his order at the counter and resuming their conversation. "So how big of a bust was Amanda’s party this morning?" 

"What do you mean?" Suli asked.

"She's already in her office, working. She must be hiding from something."

Suli raised her eyebrows. "Interesting, but, unfortunately, I didn't make it to the party. I worked late last night, and I work again tonight. There was no way I could make it without risking falling asleep on a client tonight, and they do not appreciate that. And besides, who schedules a party for 10am, anyway?" 

"There's one kind of person." Alak smiled knowingly. "The kind who already drinks scotch at 10am whether it's their birthday or not." 

"True." Suli let out a slight laugh. "But how bad could it have really been? It's just a birthday party."

"Well." Alak grimaced as an unpleasant memory popped into his mind. "One time, my father beat up a musician at my birthday party for looking at him the wrong way, and then my mother shamed him into apologizing to my father even though it wasn’t his fault."

"Oh…"

"All I'm saying is birthday parties are always more difficult than they should be, at least in my experience. You think you’re going to have a great time, so you invite all of your family and friends to gather in one place, but you forget how much your friends actually hate each other, and after downing a few shots of tequila that they snuck in, they start a brawl in front of the cake."

"I think her friends get along fine. They don’t seem like the brawling type - at least not with each other." 

"Well, all I know is that she shouldn't be working right now. She should be drinking, eating cake, and making out with her boyfriend." Alak scrunched his nose. "Clearly, I haven't had a birthday party since I was 16, and can only assume Amanda celebrates exactly like I did." 

"You had a boyfriend?" Suli asked playfully.

"Girlfriend." 

"Oh." Suli gave him an exaggerated frown. "And here I thought you were about to get interesting."

"Hey, I take offense to that," Alak teased. "I am interesting! I ran a radio station. I dyed my hair blue. I even turned in my own parents for being terrorists. I’m the ultimate rebel."

“Once upon a time, you were cool, maybe even groovy.” Suli tilted her head to the side. "And now you're a politician. Soon you'll be wearing one of those strange human business suits to work." 

"Just wait until you see me in a suit." He stood tall and feigned straightening a suit jacket. "I will rock it like no other. A perfect fit."

Suli rolled her eyes. "I'll believe it when I see it."

"You'll be the first I show."

"I look forward to mocking you endlessly." She gave alak a lingering smile as she grabbed her sandwich and started to leave.

"Wait, I need to ask one more thing,” Alak said. “What do you think of these shoes?"

"They're hideous." She grimaced at his feet. "You better not get your first suit from the same place you got those."

Alak frowned as he stared at his feet. "I like them." He looked up, straightened his shoulders and said, “And that’s all that matters. People in this town just need to get a sense of style.”

  
  
  
  



	9. Alina

Thunder growled in the distance, and gray clouds hovered ominously overhead, but no rain fell on Alina's favorite hideout as she curled up in an oversized chair and immersed herself in one of Suli's tattered romance novels. She had never read a romance novel before, and she found it strangely more suspenseful than the detective novels she usually preferred. 

Unlike with the detective novels, she had no knowledge of the genre's conventions and cliches, and she was surprised by every twist of events. When she expected the strong-willed heroine to stab a knife into the awful man's gut, she was shocked when she kissed him. Alina was so confused and so entertained that she forgot everything about her own life until an exceptionally bright flash of lightning brought her back to reality, and she looked down at the busy street. 

With the storm sending its final arrival notice, she knew the smartest thing to do would be to go home, but if Stahma's reunion with Kenya went anything like the Scottish noblewoman's reunion with her roguish childhood friend in Suli's novel, Alina was glad not to be in Tarr house. While other servants liked to gawk and eavesdrop on Stahma's affairs, there were some things Alina was happy not to witness. She already saw more than enough while tending to Stahma's business. 

So with a growling stomach and no home to return to, she jumped down into the street, landing in a cloud of dry dust. If she couldn't go home, she could at least buy herself dinner in a warm restaurant. 

Alina brushed the dust from her clothing, frowning at the wrinkled mess she had made of her dress. Although she always felt ashamed to be unkempt in public, she knew the restaurant would forgive her appearance - especially if she went to a restaurant where few wealthy Castis would ever go, where she wouldn't be considered a representation of the Tarr household. 

As soon as she deemed her appearance presentable (although not ideal), Alina noticed a familiar leatherbound collection of writing lying abandoned in the street. The bow that held it together was trampled and almost completely undone. 

Although she had never read the pages, she would recognize it anywhere. Stahma had spent months pouring over every word in that book, and Alina knew she would never abandon it so carelessly - no matter how poorly her reunion with Kenya had gone - and so the only logical conclusion she could draw was that Stahma had not been the one to abandon it.

A sense of unease grew within Alina as she hugged the book tightly against her body, protecting it as if it were Stahma's own heart, as if keeping the book safe could erase whatever terrible thing had happened to it. 

As she considered what to do with the book, she heard someone shout, "Leave me alone!" The unfamiliar voice cracked and strained with an intense fear that cut into Alina's soul, and returning a lost book suddenly seemed trivial. 

With one hand on her hailer, she approached the commotion, prepared to summon the lawkeepers if necessary, but she swiftly found herself pressed in the middle of an overzealous crowd that had backed a short woman into a corner, too short for Alina to see above the people who surrounded her. 

"What's going on?" Alina asked the woman with the friendliest face she could find, half expecting to hear that a thief or mugger had been caught red-handed by a victim enacting their own justice.

"Either a great miracle or a great deception," the woman said. "The mayor's sister, Kenya Rosewater, has returned to the living… or, well, someone who looks like Kenya Rosewater has returned to Defiance."

"Kenya?" Alina's gut twisted with panic as she pushed forward on instinct, not thinking about the danger of her actions as she shouted, "Get away from her!" 

Tripping over feet of every size and getting knocked in the side by pointy elbows, Alina stumbled out of the crowd. She was overwhelmed with fear and confusion, but at the sight of Kenya's tear-stained face and small body pressed against a wall, Alina turned to the crowd and shouted, "You're hurting her!"

"We don't want to her hurt her," a woman said, stepping forward to defend herself. "We just want to know how this miracle happened." 

"It was no miracle." Kenya pressed herself behind Alina as if she were a man twice her size, as if she were someone actually capable of protecting her.

"Yes, it was," the woman insisted.

"I'm just a normal human woman," Kenya insisted. "Just like you."

"No." A different woman reached forward and pushed Alina to the ground, sending her hailer and Stahma's book flying. "You're an abomination."

"No one's an abomination," Alina said as she pulled herself up, trying her best to ignore the flash of pain in her side. "No one. Not ever." 

"That's noble, sweetheart," a man in the crowd said, "but you're a child. You don't understand that some things just shouldn't exist."

"No, that's not true!" Alina shouted. "She's a person, not a thing you can just throw away."

"Yes, she is a person," he stated slowly as if talking to a small child. "A person who shouldn't exist. And that makes her an abomination."  

"I'm not an abomination," Kenya whispered, tears in her eyes. 

"No," Another woman spoke from the crowd. "You're a sign from our creator." She reached her hand toward Kenya with as much reverence as if God himself had come to earth. "You're a miracle."

Kenya stepped back, her voice cracking with every word. "I'm none of those things." 

"You have to be one of them," another woman said, stepping forward to give Kenya a friendly smile. "I know you're scared. We all are, but we need answers."

"I don't have any answers," Kenya said.

"Then we'll find Favi Tarr and force her to tell us the truth. We'll do whatever it takes to get answers. There are ways to make people talk." 

"No!" Alina cried, overcome by a desire to protect Stahma. 

The man laughed. "You don't scare me." Then he turned to Kenya and said, "come with us," as he grabbed her thin wrist in his large hand, yanking her forward like a doll. 

"Stop, please!" Alina tried to pull Kenya free from his grasp, but the man pushed her aside as if she were a small, useless child.

“You’re hurting me!” Kenya shouted.

“Good.” The man tightened his grip on Kenya’s wrist, causing her to gasp for breath and cry out in pain.

"Wait! Let go! I'll tell you the truth," Kenya said through sobs. "I lied! Ok! I lied. I’m not Kenya... I'm an Indogene." She tried to pull her arm free, but the man still refused to release her. "It was all a lie," she pled, her voice growing frantic with fear. "I'm not her. I'm not Kenya Rosewater. Magic’s not real. I never died. I was never brought back. It was all a lie." 

"Is this true?" A man in the crowd turned to Alina. "I recognize you. You're Stahma Tarr's handmaiden. You would know the truth." 

As curious faces turned to Alina, waiting for an answer, Alina met Kenya's terrified glance, and she knew what she had to do.

"Yes," Alina said, turning her gaze to the ground in front of her. She was a terrible liar, and she feared if she made eye contact with the man who held Kenya, he would hurt them both. "She is an Indogene." 

"Then why would you say she was brought back from the dead?" The man snapped. "What reason do you have for lying about that?"

"I.. Favi.. We…" Alina faltered with no story prepared, no skill in thinking on her feet.

"Stahma wanted to get close to mayor Rosewater," Kenya said, confidence returning to her voice. "She wanted to extort her, and she promised me a small fortune if I maintained her lie, but the money's not worth risking my life." 

"Is this true?" The crowd once again turned their terrifying gaze to Alina. 

Alina closed her eyes and nodded, the pain in her leg growing stronger as her racing heart calmed. “Yes,” she mumbled. She could not look at them, could not stand to be the object of their scorn. 

A woman in the crowd let out a sob as she turned away. "I almost let myself believe miracles were possible." 

Another man wrapped his arms over her shoulders and led her away. "I still believe." He glanced back at Kenya and Alina with a disdain that chipped away at Alina's soul. "Just not in them. They're cowards, liars, cheaters." 

The man let go of Kenya's wrist, leaving behind a red mark that would inevitably transform into a bruise by morning. "You may not be an abomination, but you are scum," he said as he turned away from them with disgust, returning to the crowd of onlookers. "Mayor Rosewater is a good woman who deserves so much better than you."

A woman spit on Kenya, and the crowd muttered the worst things Alina could imagine saying about another human before leaving Kenya and Alina alone in the streets. 

"Thank you," Kenya said, her body still shaking. "You saved my life."

Alina watched the crowd depart, feeling as if something had changed within her. "I never imagined that people would be so upset. Their cruelty is beyond belief.” She loved Defiance. The town gave her a reason to get up in the morning, and she felt a physical pain stab at her gut every time it betrayed her.

"Neither did I." Kenya sniffled, pushing back her hair with a shaking hand. "Clearly, I'm not worth all the trouble Stahma went through."

"That’s not true. Why would you say that?"

"You were there. You heard what they said. Everyone wants me dead, studied, or banished." 

"Those people aren't everyone," Alina said. "You have no idea how much some people in this town love you." Alina remembered the book that once again lay in the dirt. "Here." Alina picked up the book, dusted it off, and handed it to Kenya. "This will help you understand." 

"You know what's in it?" Kenya's eyes widened as she took the book from Alina. "Stahma wouldn't tell me."

"I don't know the exact words, but yes, I have some idea." 

"Can you tell me, please? I've had enough surprises for my lifetime. I need to know what's in this. I need to be prepared before I face another bombshell today."

"I can't. I'm sorry," Alina apologized as thunder cracked overhead. "It's going to rain soon. Can I take you somewhere? Somewhere safe. Somewhere without a crowd of torch-wielding villagers." 

"Somewhere safe sounds really good right now. I’d lock myself in a jail cell if it would protect me from those people, but I just want to go home." 

"Your home is the NeedWant?"

"Yes." Kenya added, “It’s safe there,” as if she could read the doubt in Alina’s mind.

"It might be safe, but it’s neither calm nor quiet. Everyone will have heard what you said. They won't trust you anymore, so I’m not sure it’s the best place for you right now." 

"I know," Kenya said with pain in her soft voice, "But there's nowhere else for me to go."

"What about-"

"Nowhere else," she stated, leaving no room for argument.  

"Ok." Alina smiled and nodded sympathetically. "My friend works at the NeedWant. I can get the key to your room without any trouble, and you can sneak in."

A relieved smile crossed Kenya's face. "I owe you - for the room, for my life. I'd be locked in a basement somewhere right now if it wasn't for you."

"No, you don't owe me anything." Alina blushed, dismissing Kenya's gratitude as she was trained to. "I work for Favi Tarr. Taking care of you is as much my job as taking care of her." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back from a little hiatus with this fic. More chapters coming soon!


	10. Amanda

“The deputy laughed at me when I asked him to provide us with extra security tomorrow,” said Amanda’s assistant, Hannah. “He told me that the lawkeeper will be there, so I should stop worrying and let him get back to his work. And then he said…” she trailed off, a regretful grimace crossing her face.

“What?” Amanda asked.

“It’s nothing.” She shook her head rapidly. “Just an obnoxious comment from an asshole.” 

“Tell me,” Amanda demanded softly. 

Through a pained expression, Hannah said, “he told me to remind you that a teenager died after trying to paintball you during a debate. The Lawkeeper will shoot anyone who comes within five feet of you, no matter who it is. Extra security is a waste when you have the Butcher of Yosemite on your side.” 

Amanda sighed, years of frustration coming to the surface. “The Tarrs set that kid up to die, and they set Nolan up to kill him. That’s exactly the kind of thing I’m trying to prevent from happening again. Extra security will keep anyone with guns - paintball or otherwise - from getting in.” 

“I know you want everyone to be safe, but you’re not up for reelection, and Datak Tarr left politics a long time ago. He has no reason to sabotage you, no reason to risk his business just to mess with you. And besides, this event isn’t even all that important. It’s just a pep talk, really. A chance to remind the town that we’re prospering before another snowy winter dampens their spirits. You don’t have to worry for your life, not this time.” 

“It’s not my life I’m worried about. For once, I won’t be standing on that stage alone.”

Hannah frowned, pausing a moment to consider the possibilities. “You think Datak would hurt Alak?” 

“I don’t know. I don’t think so, but Alak’s worried, so I’m not going to risk it. He deserves to feel safe.” Amanda gave Hannah’s arm an encouraging squeeze before spinning her around to face the door. “Now go. Tell the deputy that this isn’t a request. It’s a demand.” 

“And what if he doesn’t listen to me? Like I said, he’s a complete asshole.” 

“Dealing with assholes is, unfortunately, an unavoidable part of the job, but I have faith in you. I wouldn’t have hired you if I didn’t.” 

“Thank you, but I’m not you. I have no power over anyone. I’m just an assistant.”

“I’ve seen you play hockey,” Amanda said. “Find some of that aggression. Threaten to hit him with a hockey stick if you need to. That’ll get him jumping.”

“Isn’t that a little violent?” 

“Violent, but effective,” Amanda said. “Besides, you don’t actually need to do it. You just need to scare him into listening to you.” 

“Ok.” Hannah nodded as she took a deep breath. “I can do that.” 

“Good.” Amanda shoved Hannah forward, narrowly avoiding crashing her into a town council member.

“Tom,” Amanda said. “What are you doing here?”

“I um…” He took a deep breath, nodding a greeting to Hannah as she left. “There’s something I needed to tell you. Something I didn’t want you to hear through salacious rumors and third party gossip.” 

“What?” Amanda looked him up and down, noticing his haggard appearance and overall nervous demeanor. 

“Do you want a drink first?” He took off his hat and motioned towards her drink cart as if he were planning on staying a while. “It might help take the edge off.”

“I don’t need a drink,” Amanda stated.

“Are you sure?” He wrung his hat between his hands. “A drink always helps me with bad news.” 

“People tell me bad news every five minutes, and as much as I love my scotch, if I drank that often, I’d be dead, so come on, just spit it out.” 

“You remember the woman who came to town this morning claiming to be your sister?” 

Amanda felt like the air had suddenly been sucked out of the room, but she managed to choke out the words, “hard to forget.” 

“Of course. That was a silly question. Well, anyway, she-she confessed that… she confessed to being an Indogene. We confronted her, forced her to tell the truth, and the Tarr handmaiden confirmed her story. That woman is not Kenya Rosewater.” 

“Oh.” Amanda’s breath hitched in her throat, making speech nearly impossible. “Ok.”

“I just thought you should know,” Tom said. “Kenya was a good woman who doesn’t deserve to have her memory dragged through the mud by an opportunistic terrorist.” 

“I needed to know the truth,” Amanda said, her voice cold and emotionless. “So thank you for telling me.”

“It was the right thing to do.” He gave her a weak smile and asked, “Are you ok?” 

“I’m fine.” Amanda plastered an artificial smile on her face. “Nothing’s changed.” She shrugged and bit back the unexpected lump in her throat. 

Amanda never trusted that woman, never fantasized that her sister had come back to her, so she couldn’t understand why she suddenly wanted to curl up under her desk and cry. 

“My sister died a long time ago.” Amanda turned away from Tom, grabbing a file from her desk, not caring what was in it. She needed something to keep her mind occupied, something to avoid thinking about how vindictive and cruel the universe was to her.


	11. Kenya

Kenya stood outside her bedroom door, frozen by the fear that it wouldn't feel like home anymore. Every object in her room was carefully curated. A lifetime of memories. And as long as she refused to open the door, she could believe that nothing inside had changed, that no one had refiled through her belongings the way people do when someone dies.

But she had nowhere else to go, nothing else to take comfort in, so she turned the key in the lock, and pushed into her room, bracing herself for what she would find. 

And to her surprise, the changes in her room didn't hurt as much as she expected. She, quite strangely, felt nothing. Her bed had been replaced, and a new bookcase had been put up, but the wallpaper remained unchanged, and her clothing still hung in the closet. It was still her home. Someone else had simply borrowed it for a while.

Kenya set Stahma's book on the bed that wasn't hers, but she had no time to contemplate what to do with it before a familiar knock came at the door. She smiled and affectionately said, "Come in.”

"Hey," Nolan said slowly and cautiously, a million unspoken thoughts written in his expression. 

"You still knock the same way you used to," Kenya said, and he matched her smile. "Finally, something that hasn't changed." 

"Plenty of things around here are still the same."

"The same, but different. Like this room. Like you with your new scars." She gently touched the half-moon shaped scar on Nolan's temple. "And your new girlfriend."

"You never were one for small talk. Always right to the point." Nolan took a deep breath and lead her to sit beside him on the bed that wasn't hers. "I think we need to have an awkward conversation."

"About the fact that I caught you kissing my sister?"

"That would be the reason."

"That wasn't exactly a friendly kiss for making the best birthday cake in Defiance, was it?"

"No, it wasn't." 

"Obviously, so come on," Kenya smirked. "I need some gossip." 

"Gossip?" Nolan asked.

"Yeah, gossip. It's been a long day, so just tell me how long you've been fucking my sister."

Nolan let out a genuine throaty laugh as he stroked his beard. "I've missed you."

"And I'm happy to see you too, but neither flattery nor distractions will not get you out of answering the question."

"It started about four years ago."

"So you waited for my grave to settle before hooking up. That's good to know." 

"Jesus." Nolan looked to the ceiling. "You could have given military torturers a run for their money." 

"I'm just kidding. You know I love to make you squirm." Kenya squeezed Nolan's shoulder, her mischievous smirk transforming into a genuine smile. "You got Amanda to commit. That's impressive. Honestly, I'm happy for both of you."

Nolan's brow furrowed as he studied her a moment before he spoke. "You seem remarkably ok with this."

"There's nothing not to be ok with." Kenya shrugged. "You and I had casual sex for a couple months a long time ago, and for most of that time, you were a paying client. What am I going to do, tell you to break up with your girlfriend?" She paused, her heart skipping a beat as she spat out, "you're not married, are you?" 

"No, we're not." 

"Thank God." 

"And now, I think we see your real feelings." 

"No, it's not that." She placed her hand over Nolan's. "I just couldn't stand to miss my big sister's wedding. After Connor and New York, I never imagined her loving again, much less getting married. If she did, I'd want to be there. That's all."

"So, that's it?" Nolan asked. "We're good?" 

"I do have another question?" 

"Shoot." 

"Who's Berlin?" 

Nolan rested his hand on his chin and teasingly asked, "Is that jealousy I sense?" 

Kenya narrowed her eyes, staring into his soul as she leaned uncomfortably close to him. "Who's the new woman in my sister's life? I like her, and I know she's your daughter's girlfriend, but I'd still fight her if she tried to take my place in Amanda's life, so do I need to fight her?"

Nolan smiled, meeting Kenya's playful gaze with a sincere look. "No one will ever replace you, Kenya." 

Kenya turned away from Nolan, pushing back her hair as her smile faded into barely controlled tears. She hadn't intended to cry and was embarrassed she might appear fragile. 

"I'm sorry," Nolan said. "I didn't mean to upset you."

"I know. I know that you didn't mean to hurt me. And I know that Amanda loves me." Kenya sniffled and shook her head. "But it still hurts to see her happy without me. It's a selfish and awful thing to say, but I should have been standing by her side, not someone else, no matter how great she is."

"I understand." Nolan nodded, a moment of silence lingering between them before he added, "And, I see how it is. Berlin gets you all choked up, but me, I'm replaceable." Nolan's tone grew lighter with each word as Kenya laughed away her tears. "I get it," he continued. "You weren't the first or the last woman to use me for sex." 

"I did not use you for sex!" Kenya playfully shoved her shoulder against his. "I'm a prostitute who chose not to charge you for sex - that's the highest compliment anyone can receive." 

"Sure, but name a single conversation we had the entire time we were together that was not about sex." 

"At Christie's wedding."

"We had already broken up."

Kenya opened her mouth to come up with another example before realizing she couldn't name a conversation from before they broke up. "Shit."

"Exactly." 

"But we must have."

"Probably, but whatever it was, it wasn't very memorable."

"I liked you though." 

"And I liked you."

"But you love my sister." 

"Yeah."

"I wish she were here." Kenya looked down at her hands, unable to meet Nolan's gaze with her heartbreaking.

Nolan wrapped his arm around Kenya's shoulder, hugging her against his body. "She's just scared." 

"Scared of me?"

"Of getting hurt again." Nolan took a deep breath. "A lot has happened since you left. She's changed. She's more skeptical than she used to be."

"I know she doesn't believe me, but what about you?" Kenya met Nolan's gaze with a racing heart. Nothing mattered more than getting Nolan to believe her. If he believed her, she'd have a real friend, and she could get her sister back. 

"That's what I'm here to figure out."

"Oh." Kenya nodded, disappointment washing over her. "This wasn't a social visit."

"I'm sorry, but I've been ordered to find out who you are and determine if you are a threat to this town." 

"You're just doing your job." 

"But everything we just talked about, that was me having a conversation with my friend, a friend I've missed. That wasn't on the clock." 

"Thank you." Kenya stood up from the bed and looked down at Nolan. "So, what do you need to know?" She forced every hint of emotion out of her voice. Whatever it took to get her sister back, she would do it, no matter how awful.

"I need you to convince me you really are Kenya Rosewater." 

"And how do I do that?"

"You tell me about the last conversation we ever had."

"Uh... I… I told you some lie about how I was distracted by some hot gulanite miner because I didn't want you to know I was actually distracted by Stahma Tarr." Kenya folded her arms impatiently. "Look, if you're fishing for an apology, I'm sorry for lying, but what does that have to do with anything?"

"Amanda once asked me about the last time I saw you, so I know you never told her."

"So?" 

Nolan gave Kenya a proud smile. "So you passed your first test." 

For the next hour, Nolan asked Kenya an exhaustive list of questions about her past and about the world they lived in. He asked her to describe everything she knew about the world as of 2046 - from politics to the population of New York. He said it was to make sure she wasn't lying, that everything she knew about the world belonged to a woman who had last been alive in 2046. With so many questions, she began doubting things she knew with all her soul to be true, but she pushed forward, determined to prove herself. 

When he finished questioning her, he leaned back in his chair and folded his arms. "We'll do a DNA test, and we'll get Doc Yewll to examine you."

"So, does that mean I passed the oral exam?"

"Yeah, you did." 

"You believe me?" 

"I do," Nolan said without hesitation, "but I need proof."

"Thank you." She hugged him and said, "God, it must be late," before looking to the wall, her shoulders drooping. "My clock is gone. I loved that clock." 

Nolan followed her gaze to the empty space on the wall. "Amanda took it." 

"Amanda?" Kenya laughed. "Amanda Rosewater? My Amanda? She took that clock? The one with the cat eyes? 

Nolan nodded. "And the annoying ticking sound that never shuts up."

"She always said it was ridiculous." 

"She still thinks it's ridiculous, but it reminds her of you."

  
  



	12. Amanda

Amanda was given a dignified apartment hidden away in the Darby building, safe from anyone who might try to hurt her - the town's gift of protection for their mayor. But with walls identical to those in her office, her personal life offered little escape from her work.

So, to make her apartment more of a home, Amanda surrounded herself with old-world art and games. Some of her visitors were surprised to find her living in such an unusually whimsical apartment, but those who knew her well understood it suited her perfectly.

On the day a woman claiming to be her sister barged into her life for the second time, she sat in her unusually whimsical apartment, staring at an exceptionally whimsical clock, wishing her courage hadn't chosen that day to disappear.

She knew she could have helped Nolan interrogate the woman impersonating her sister, but she couldn't stomach it. Listening to that woman's lies and defenses would hurt more than Amanda could tolerate, and it wasn't worth the pain when someone she trusted could do it better than she could. Nolan was a better interrogator, a less emotional person. She knew that for a fact.

But no matter the facts, waiting for answers was equally unbearable. If she were with Nolan, she'd know the truth before anyone else. She'd learn about that woman's agenda and how to retaliate. But instead of forming a plan, she was sitting alone under dim lights, waiting for Nolan. It didn't feel right, and no amount of rationalizing would make it so.

Amanda's stomach clenched as the clock struck two o'clock in the morning, and Nolan still hadn't returned. The last time Nolan had been out so late, he'd been shot, and that wasn't something Amanda liked to think about, so she told herself he was fine. He was doing the job she paid him to do, a job he was fully capable of doing.

She stood, pacing circles around the room, tapping her nails against every surface until she finally picked up a book, half-heartedly reading until she looked up once again to see it was 2:30, and there was still no word from Nolan. 

Worry finally getting the best of her, she reached for her hailer, but as the hailer buzzed, the door opened, and Nolan entered with a hesitant smile. 

"There you are." Amanda dropped the hailer, relief washing over her. "I was getting worried." 

"Sorry it took so long." Nolan set his notepad of findings on the table and kissed her hello. With their bodies pressed together, she could smell the musty scent of a long-closed room covered in lavender incense. It was Kenya's favorite.

"I didn't want to leave without being sure," Nolan said.

"Thank you for being thorough." Amanda smiled in gratitude before quickly turning serious. "So, what did she say?" 

"A lot." Nolan took off his jacket and tossed it over the back of the sofa. "She told me about the first time we met and the last time we talked. She told me about her childhood, about the last week of her life, about every silly fight the two of you ever had, about all the secrets she never told you, and all the things she wished she had said or done differently. Then we talked about the world and about what she remembered. Honestly, after the tragedy of the past few years, I had forgotten how important those old scandals felt at the time. It was like walking into the past." 

"It's hard to believe she's that good of a liar," Amanda said, "but Indogenes are smart. They've had 40 years to study our culture and improve their technology. Their human duplicates must be practically perfect by now. I can’t even-”

“Amanda,” Nolan cut her rant short before she could begin speculating on Indogene science and conspiracies.

“What?”

 “You misunderstood." He took her hands delicately in his, smiling as he said, "I think she's real. I'm practically sure of it."

"She can't be." Amanda shook her head, crossing her arms as she pulled away from Nolan. "She confessed to being the Indogene." 

"What? To who?" 

"To an entire crowd of witnesses who confirmed she said she was both an Indogene and working Stahma Tarr." 

"That's not possible," Nolan said. "Even if she's lying about where she came from, she's human or…" Nolan ran his hand through his hair as he thought. "Or she's something else, but she's not an Indogene. Berlin gave her a quick and dirty blood test. It was human blood. She has the wound to prove it." 

"You're sure?"

"Yes," Nolan said defensively, and Amanda didn't know if he was offended that Amanda didn't believe in him or that she didn’t believe in that woman. "As we talked, there were moments I forgot I was interrogating her. I was just talking to an old friend, to  _ your _ sister." 

Amanda looked into his eyes, ready to argue when she noticed a sadness behind his defensiveness, and she realized, "You want her to be real."

"Of course I do." Confusion shown in Nolan's eyes. "Why would I want anything else?"

"I can't blame you for wanting that, but maybe you want her to be real so much you're ignoring evidence, just like I did the last time this happened. Maybe everything you've been through has changed you, and-"

"And what? I'm too gullible now? Too easily manipulated?" 

"No, never. I trust you more than anyone else," Amanda said, feeling horrible for starting a fight with the person she depended on most. She needed him to solve this and catch her when she inevitably fell apart, so she couldn’t drive a wedge between them, not even a temporary one. Not now. "But everyone's world is shaped by their life experiences, and your experiences are amazing, truly astounding, so you can't see that the rest of us don't live like that." 

"I'm good at this. I know what I'm doing." 

"I know you do, but so would anyone trying to hurt us. They wouldn't send a half-assed duplicate to manipulate us, not after how quickly you identified the last one. We’ve learned from our mistakes, and so have our enemies. We have to stay on our toes." 

"You're right. Of course you’re right. I don’t know why I’m fighting you on this." Nolan paused before saying, "I need to hear Kenya's confession. And I need to hear from the Tarr handmaiden and anyone who heard her say it. I already told Kenya we’d need a DNA test to confirm the truth. Doc should still have samples to compare. We’ll be thorough."

"Good. Get the test." Amanda fell into a dining chair, the structure of his plan making the world seem less unbearable. "Let me know what it says."

Nolan slowly took the seat beside her. "She's got all of Kenya's wit and humor." His voice was low and quiet, and Amanda could tell he was walking on eggshells around her, trying not to say the wrong thing. "And she misses you."

Amanda smiled and cupped Nolan's cheek in her hand. "She confessed, Nolan."

"Not to me." He glanced at his notes as he said, "We'll go to Doc Yewll first thing in the morning."

"Get a different doctor. I know you trust her, and I know I'll never understand what happened between you two, but I can't go to her for this when she lied the last time I brought her a woman pretending to be my sister."

"I understand." Nolan nodded. "I'll find another doctor. I'll get multiple opinions. You're right that we need to be sure. This isn't something I can rely on my gut feeling about." 

"Thank you." 

"You can come with us. See for yourself."

"No, I don't want any part of this. If she's trying to use me, I can't let her get the upper hand. I can't let her get too close." 

"Ok." Nolan took a deep breath, relaxing as their plan was formed. "And we'll deal with it tomorrow, but right now, I could eat a hellbug. You eaten anything?" 

"No." she hadn't even thought about food, but as soon as Nolan asked the question, her empty stomach rumbled.

"I'll get some takeout - something awful and greasy that will take a year off our lives."

"Perfect," she said, squeezing his arm. He always took care of her when she needed him to without ever making her feel like she needed him to. She loved him for it.

"Be pointless to tell you that you should eat, get some sleep, and come at this in the morning with a clear head, wouldn't it?" 

"Yeah, it would."

"Had to ask." He smiled and pushed his notepad towards her. "You know her better than I do. Everything she said is in here, and I hope you come to the same conclusion I did."

"I can't hope." 

With a knowing smile, Nolan said, "there's always hope," echoing a statement she had said to him more times than she could count. 

"Hey! No using my own words against me!"

"If you're going to hold me accountable for my gut reactions, I'm going to do the same to you." He smiled. "And I know you wouldn't have it any other way."

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The inspiration for putting old world toys and games in Amanda's apartment was the decor from her season 1 office. Although she likely inherited that from when her office was Nicky's office and redecorated with her personal style in season 3, I decided she kept some of the things from that old office and brought them home and also picked up some new antiques as well.


	13. Kenya

Kenya stared at her hands, rotating her wrists and flexing her fingers, searching for a sign of change or age, but her entire body seemed exactly as it had before. Every muscle, every scar, every unwanted hair. Everything the same.

She believed her body should have innately known that five years had passed. After a few too many drunken nights in her youth, she quickly learned that the body always remembered what the mind didn't. 

She always awoke from a drunken stupor with new tattoos or bruises or lipstick smears, and if a single forgotten night always left a mark, how could five years leave nothing? She kept brainstorming explanations that fit her understanding of the world. Had Stahma frozen her? Placed her in a cryogenic coffin, just waiting for the day she could be exhumed? She desperately wanted to make sense of what happened to her, but it frustratingly appeared to be magic - complex, illogical magic.

"If you're thinking of ordering a drink," a woman said from behind the bar, "know that I have strict rules against serving anyone so high off their ass that their hand is the most fascinating thing they've seen all year. Combining alcohol with hallucinogens is how night porters end up with dead bodies in their rooms, and trust me, they don't enjoy that." 

"Oh, I know." Kenya grimaced in sympathy as she looked up to see a woman with striking blue eyes and purple skin. She wore a lavender dress that flowed loosely around her body from the thick silver necklace that held it together. It was unlike anything Kenya had ever seen before in either human or Votan fashion. This woman gave her the feeling that she had truly arrived in the future.

"This day would actually make sense if I were in the middle of a terrible trip, but don't worry, I'm 100% sober." Kenya frowned, a sliver of doubt in her mind. "I think."

The woman leaned across the bar, a tantalizing and unfamiliar scent luring Kenya forward to meet her gaze. Her eyes wandered Kenya's body, examining every detail of her face until she said, "you don't look high." 

"Damn," Kenya sighed and slouched over the bar. "There goes my best hope of making sense of my life."

The woman chuckled and asked, "rough night?"

With a tilt of her head, Kenya said, "the worst of my life." 

"I'm sorry," the woman said. "Anything I can get you to take the edge off?"

"Scotch would be good." If Kenya couldn't have her sister, at least she could have her sister's favorite drink. "According to my sister, scotch cures everything." 

"I don't know about that," the woman said as she poured Kenya a glass. "Not the greatest coping mechanism. Also, a little intense for me."

"Normally, for me too." Kenya grabbed the glass of scotch and took a swig before adding, "But I recently started falling for a woman I could genuinely see myself with. Someone I could love." 

"That's not the kind of relationship most people try to drown in scotch."

"At first, it wasn't. I thought I knew her, but then she betrayed my sister and my friend and… and I realized that maybe I didn't know her at all. Maybe she wasn't the type of person I should love. Maybe she was the type of person I should punch." 

"I'm sorry."

"Me too." 

"It's hard to love someone you shouldn't."

"I don't love her… not exactly." Kenya looked down at her glass. "But I could have loved her. There's a difference." 

"And now?" 

Kenya gave the woman a sad smile. "You can't choose who you're attracted to. Sometimes people just have a pull over you, whether you want them to or not." 

"That's what people with shitty lovers say." 

"That's not-"Kenya caught herself before she argued against the truth. "Ok, that's absolutely true. And I’ve got the scars to prove it, but here I am, falling into bed with a woman who was willing to sacrifice a teenager to get her husband elected mayor. Can you imagine that?" Kenya asked without pausing for a reply. "I've campaigned for my sister a million times and in a million ways, but murder never crossed my mind. I love her, but I'd let her lose before I'd lay a hand on an innocent person." 

"Oh," the bartender's eyes widened, and she took a frightened step back before quickly regaining her composure. 

"I'm sorry," Kenya said as she stared into the woman's cautious eyes. "I shouldn't have ranted like that. You don't deserve my baggage."

"No, you're absolutely right to rant. Its me who should have known who… it's… you're... you're  _ Kenya Rosewater _ ."

"I've had a few doubts today, but I'm pretty sure that's who I am," Kenya said, hoping a bit of levity would break the tension between them. "And you don't have to be afraid of me. Even if I don't quite know what's happening to me, I'm just a woman. Same as you." 

"I meant no offense, but the entire town is talking about your death, and now you're sitting in front of me."

"I imagine it's hard to realize you're talking to a ghost." 

"Not as hard as I imagine feeling like a ghost would be, so let's start over." Suli extended her hand. "I'm Suli."

"Kenya," she said as she shook Suli's hand. "Nice to meet you, Suli."

"Likewise." 

"So, Suli, you're my replacement in all this, huh?"

"Not replacement. Amanda owns the NeedWant, and I don't think she'd ever sell. I'm just keeping it running for her. For you."

"Thank you for that. It would have been awful to find this place boarded up. Not sure Defiance would feel like home without the NeedWant."

"Still, it must be strange for you. Even I feel a little strange, like I've been caught stealing someone else’s identity."

"You shouldn't,” Kenya said. “The business I poured my soul into lived on after my death. I left behind something bigger than myself, something people genuinely love. It's exactly what I dreamed would happen to the NeedWant.” Kenya scrunched her face. “Of course, I had hoped for a few more years with it, but it's still amazing to see. Most people will never know their own legacy."

"You built something truly remarkable," Suli said. "I didn't understand that when I started. For the first few months, this was just a job, and most of my customers just wanted to fuck their first Omec."

"Same thing happened to me and my night porters the first year we were open. Most of our business was humans and Votans looking to have sex with an alien."

"A universal desire, it seems." 

Kenya laughed at the truth of the statement and at the memory of nervous aliens exploring each other’s bodies with the grace of virginal teenagers. "You learn a lot about people in this job." 

"I think I'm qualified to be a cultural ambassador at this point," Suli said. "I've seen sides of every race on this planet."

Kenya arched an eyebrow. "Even the Sensoth?"

"Even the Sensoth." Suli grinned with pride.

"Impressive."

"I was raised to never give up on a challenge." She smiled. "No matter what kind."

"You must have been the perfect night porter."

"Eventually, but being treated like an exotic novelty was unsettling. Don't get me wrong, it was worth the money - I wouldn't have done it if it wasn't, but it was strange."

"I'm sorry people made you feel uncomfortable."

"It's not your fault." 

"It's  _ my _ NeedWant."

"And  _ your _ sister who stood up for me. Amanda threatened to throw anyone in jail who got out of line."

"She's a remarkable woman." 

"She is. And so are the night porters who welcomed me with open arms. If not for them and Alina, I would have left town for an unhappy life with my brother just so I wouldn't be alone. Your NeedWant gave me a life worth living. It’s not a typical brothel.”

“It’s my own creation.”

“Yes.” Suli smiled softly. “You know, I always looked up to you, and now here you are, even more special than I imagined."

"Am I blushing?" Kenya asked, beaming with a mixture of pride and embarrassment. "I feel like I'm blushing." 

"As red as a rose." 

"It’s just that you understand this place perfectly.” She paused, looking into Suli’s eyes. “You're perfect." 

"I know," Suli said with a playful smile.

"And I like you,” Kenya said in a low, sultry tone that had never failed to get her what she wanted.

"I like you too.” Suli matched Kenya’s tone precisely, her intent clear. “And I want to get to know you better.”

Kenya bit her lip, devouring Suli with her eyes before impulsively saying, "so take me upstairs."

"I don't know." Suli's flirtatious smile fell into a conflicted expression that surprised Kenya. Her intention had seemed perfectly clear. "Is that smart?" 

“I don’t care what’s smart, but I’ll pay you if that's what you're worried about. I’m not looking for a girlfriend. I know how this works. I’m your client, one of many." 

"It's not that." 

"Then what?" 

"You're my boss's sister." 

"My sister who is shacking up with my ex? That sister? The sister whose city council keeps the beds warm upstairs? Trust me, she doesn't care if I sleep with you." 

"But Stahma Tarr would." Fear flickered through her eyes. "You're her-" 

"I belong to no one," Kenya said before Suli could finish her sentence. "I make my own decisions. Don't worry about her. She won't hurt you, not if she knows what’s good for her."

"You sure?" 

"Absolutely," Kenya said. "And I don't want to be alone tonight. I want to spend it with an amazing, open minded woman who understands me better than anyone I’ve met in a long time." 

"So do I." Suli stepped away from the bar, taking Kenya's hand in her own and leading her up the staircase to her room. 

As Kenya took off her shoes and tossed them aside, Suli fell back on the bed and playfully asked, "you're not fucking me because you never fucked an Omec, right?"

"No." Kenya sat beside Suli. "I'm fucking you because you're kind.” Kenya drew Suli forward, softly kissing her her neck. “And you’re beautiful.” She traced her hand along Suli’s back. “And you’re everything I need right now."

“Uncomplicated,” Suli whispered as she led Kenya's hand to a hidden clasp that released the metal collar of her dress. 

“Exactly.” Kenya helped Suli undo the ornamentation on her dress. It was undeniably gorgeous, but without the eccentricities of her gown, Suli seemed softer in a way that made her irresistible. "You're beautiful.” 

"So are you," Suli said as she glided her hand along Kenya's thigh and brought their lips together in another kiss.


	14. Amanda

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW on this chapter for mentions of Pottinger's abuse and assault on Amanda - all taken from canon

Amanda stared at Nolan's familiar handwriting until it became illegible, until she began doubting the meaning of simple words, until she found herself questioning why he wrote a line through his sevens. All these years of reading his reports, and she never once asked him why. 

 _Sevens_ . _Fucking sevens_. She leaned back in her chair, fighting the urge to scream and cry. In the middle of one of the most confusing experiences of her life, she was worried about one of the most pointless things she could possibly worry about. 

But it was easier to worry about sevens than worry that her memories were deceptive, and her instincts were unreliable. It had been five years since she had last seen Kenya, the real Kenya, and memories were less reliable than people wanted to believe. Five years was more than enough time for her memories to fade into an imperfect haze. Kenya herself had once told Amanda she wasn't sure if she actually remembered their mother or if she just remembered the stories Amanda told her.

After all these years, Amanda could still remember her mother's face, and certain moments from her childhood remained as clear as if they had happened yesterday, but most of her life before war broke out was gone. Only the most significant memories remained, the rest lost to trauma and insignificance. And she knew her memories of Kenya would suffer the same slow degradation as the memories of her mother.

She closed her eyes, trying to summon an image of her sister's face to fight against time. 

Long brown hair, a soft smile, sparkling eyeshadow that made her witty blue eyes shine.

A woman appearing in the darkness, dirt-smeared skin, forgotten memories.

A rip in the temple revealing indogene skin beneath that long brown hair. A liar sent by a rapist.

A man pressing Amanda to the ground - screams so loud she couldn't believe they came from her throat. Hands trembling, fingernails breaking skin. A parasite growing inside her.

Cameras hidden in her bedroom, a man filming her every move, manipulating her thoughts, invading her mind, no part of her body unscathed, violated to her core.

Amanda's eyes shot open, her hands reaching for the light switch, flooding the room with light. Her breath was heavy in her chest, her heart racing as if she had just run a marathon. She forced herself to breath, slow and steady. It was ok. _She_ was ok. All of that was in the past. Pottinger was dead, but her memories were unreliable, tainted by his abuse. 

Amanda began digging through a drawer for an old photograph of Kenya, the best she had. An image of a real woman, unscathed by the horrors of Amanda's memory.

She stared at the photo, searching for discrepancies between it and the woman claiming to be her sister, but she couldn't find any. Her memory of that woman was as imperfect as her fading memories of her sister. She had been too shocked to study that woman, and it had been too long since she'd seen Kenya outside of a photograph. The truth wouldn't be found in memories and photographs. That would be too easy.

A few months earlier, Berlin had coerced Amanda into watching an old action movie where the hero's girlfriend was replaced by an identical duplicate, and the hero realized the truth within minutes. His love for her saved the world. They kissed, and Amanda nearly cried on Berlin's shiny leather sofa because she couldn't tell the difference between her sister and an Indogene. If the fate of the world depended on her identifying someone from an imposter, the world would burn. She didn't even know why her boyfriend wrote a line through his sevens.

Movies were too optimistic about what it meant to know someone, too romantic for their own good. In reality, liars were as convincing as the honest. Sometimes more convincing. They rehearsed and studied exactly what to say to destroy you in a way the honest never did.

Amanda focused on the ticking of the clock to kill her unwanted thoughts. 

Tick. Tick. Tick.

It was calming, meticulous and predictable. 

Tick. Tick. Tick. 

The sound lulled her into a calm that was broken by a reverberating bang that shook her to her core. At first, she didn't realize what caused the noise, wondering if someone had knocked over a shelf on a floor below. The maintenance crew was always rearranging furniture for upcoming events, so she habitually ignored unusual sounds, but when the noise was followed by a scream from the street, she knew something terrible had happened. This wasn't fallen furniture.

Amanda leapt out of her seat, grabbing her jacket and running through the Darby building as fast as she could, racing into the street to find all preparations for the celebration had been destroyed.

Fire blazed from the stage as the podium toppled over, flames engulfing the wood. The air smelled of fresh fruit and firewood. If Amanda hadn't been standing in the midst of destruction, it would have been a pleasant smell.

Amanda reached for her hailer, pressing Nolan's name on the screen. Her first instinct was to call for his help, but when he didn't answer, fear began creeping through her veins. He was out here when the explosion happened. 

She let it ring longer than she should have, until she was sure he wouldn't answer. Failing to reach Nolan, she dialed Irisa who groggily answered. "What?"

"A bomb went off in Darby square. It's bad. They blew up everything from the market, but I don't see any injured people, so if we're lucky, the square was empty when the bomb went off. Just get your ass down here now. Bring Berlin and Poole." She hung up without waiting for Irisa's response. There was no time for pleasantries, and thankfully Irisa wouldn't expect any.

She pressed Nolan's name again. Still no response, but she refused to panic, not in front of a growing crowd, not when she had no reason to believe Nolan was anywhere other than a shitty restaurant gorging on greasy food. 

"What happened?!" Poole asked as he ran up to her, still in his pajamas. 

"I don't know any more than you do." She placed her hand on his shoulder looking around the scene. "Get dressed - people need to see you as an authority, not a scared guy in pajamas. Once you're dressed, get your ass back out here to start figuring this out."

"Got it," Poole said as he ran off.

"Hannah!" Amanda said, running towards her groggy assistant. "I need your help."

Hannah's lip quivered, her pale face glowing white with fear in the moonlight. "Is everyone ok?" 

"I don't know," Amanda said. "It's late. Or it's early. Whatever it is, not many people are out this time of day. Injuries should be minimal." 

"Farmers come to the market early," Hannah said, her voice dripping with concern. "And miners and night porters work late."

 _So do lawkeepers_ , Amanda thought, but she said, "I know, but right now I just need you to keep people calm and keep them out of the square. The last thing we need is for people to panic."

She turned away from Hannah, pressing Nolan's name on her hailer again. No response. She didn't think she could tell one more person not to panic before it became perfectly clear that she was starting to panic. She didn't give a shit about the stage or anything else. She just needed to know that Nolan hadn't been out here when the bomb went off. 

With Poole and Hannah to keep the public in check and get the fire put out, Amanda walked between the remains of the farmers market, fallen berries squishing beneath her feet. 

"Anyone out here?" she called, hoping she wouldn't receive an answer. "Anyone hurt?" 

The market was so quiet that Amanda felt like she was walking through a graveyard. She pressed Nolan's name on her hailer again, and this time, in the silence of the night, she heard a faint chirping sound. 

She walked towards the sound, moving faster with each step until she saw a pair of men's boots peeking out from beneath the tattered remains of a celebratory banner. Brown leather boots with worn rubber soles and a black mark on the left heel, unmistakably Nolan's.

"Nolan!" Amanda rushed forward, her heart racing as she knelt beside him. Her mind stopped working, fear controlling her every move as she tore the tarp away from his body, until she saw his chest rise and fall. He was breathing, and she allowed herself to join him. 

She placed one hand on his chest, and the other on his face, "Nolan, hey, wake up."

"I'm ok," he said without opening his eyes. He placed his hand over hers, his delicate grasp more worrying than reassuring. "I was far enough away from the blast. Just got hit by that… thing" 

"You sure?" 

"Yeah." He forced his eyes open, blinking rapidly as if looking into a bright light.

"We need to get you to a doctor." Amanda pulled him closer, helping him sit up, his arm resting against her for support. "What happened?" 

"I don't know," Nolan said, surveying the disaster around them.

"Someone wants to hurt us…" Amanda trailed off as her eyes locked on Kenya's across the square. Her heart skipped a beat. 

Kenya flashed a fragile smile in Amanda's direction, but Amanda looked away as if she were embarrassed, and maybe she was. Embarrassed that she didn't know the truth.

"We need to be cautious," Amanda said to Nolan, putting aside her conflicting feelings about Kenya to help Nolan steady himself, wincing as he let out a groan. "You ok?"

"Yeah. I'm nothing if not resilient." Nolan smiled. "Just some bruises." 

"You sure? Nothing else?" 

"You spent all day telling me that I was basically invincible, and now you're worried I'm fragile?"

"I just love you."

"I love you too," Nolan said in the quick, automatic way you say those words to someone you've said them to a thousand times before. She knew him well enough to know he was already trying to figure out who caused the explosion and why.

"And I need you." Tears burned at Amanda's eyes. _Fuck_ , if there was a limit to the number of times a person could cry in a 24 hour period, Amanda had regrettably yet to find it. "I'm sorry, shit, I'm a mess."

"Hey." Nolan brushed his hand against her cheek. "I know you're having a bad day, but I've survived worse. This is barely a scratch. I'm ok." 

"I know." She smiled as best she could. "But when I think I might lose you, I remember how many things I need to say to you, how many things I need to ask."

"What do you think is left unsaid between us?"

"Lots of things. Like, I have no idea why the fuck you write a line through the number seven." Amanda started laughing as tears streamed down her face. She knew it sounded ridiculous even as she said it. "And what if the fate of the world depends on me knowing everything about you? I don't want to be standing on a rooftop with a gun, wondering what's real."

"Ok." Nolan took a deep breath. "I mean this in the most respectful way possible, but what the hell are you talking about?"

Amanda could feel her cheeks burning as she said, "I watched a movie with Berlin." 

"You gotta stop doing that," Nolan said with a chuckle and a kiss. "You're not meant for fiction. You take everything to heart."

"I know, but I really do need your answer." Amanda leaned her forehead against his. "Why do you write a line through your sevens?"

"I don't know." Nolan shrugged. "My dad used to write a line through his sevens, so my sister started, and I did everything my sister did, so… here I am, writing lines through my sevens for no discernible reason. I'm sure he had a reason, but I have no idea what it is." 

"Half your personality was formed by emulating your sister as a child, wasn't it?"

Nolan nodded. "Way more than half."

"I wish I could have met her." 

"Me too." Nolan smiled sadly. "You would have liked her."

"I'm sure I would have." Amanda squeezed his hand. "But if you try to make any parallel to my own sister," Amanda added in a playfully serious tone, "I'm going to leave you here to figure out how to stand up on your own." 

"Not a word." Nolan smiled before letting out a sigh. "We have other problems to worry about now."


	15. Stahma

“It’s obvious that someone wants our mayor dead,” an Irathient woman muttered to her friend who replied, “Maybe they want us all dead. It’s happened before. Ever since Rahm Tak and Silora Voske, I’ve been prepared for the day the Votanis Collective decides to erase this town from the map.”

Stahma linked her arm with Alina’s, falling in step behind the two women as they approached Darby Square. She and Alina walked softly, remaining a few feet behind them in hopes of going unnoticed. People tended to silence their gossip around her, fearing what she would do with the information, and Stahma wanted to know every bit of gossip flowing through the town that night.

“Did they ever really forgive the mayor for harboring the Butcher of Yosemite? He saved us from the Volge, from the Omec, from god knows what else. He’s one of the Defiant few, father to an Irathient daughter. This whole town is named after his heroism. And so what if he made mistakes? It was a brutal, violent time. Our government told us all that humans were lesser beings, and we believed them just as the humans believed we were the lesser beings. We’ve learned so much since then. Everyone’s changed how they view the world except for the Votanis Collective, who wants to trap us in our violent past.” 

“They don’t care about anyone, not even the people they claim to protect. They just want vengeance.”

“And if they’re not out for vengeance, they’re out for the mines. They’re greedy assholes who want what isn’t theirs to take.”

“Mmmhmm.”

“They’d enslave us all, no question. First, they use us to overtake the humans, and when they don’t need us anymore, they push us down too. They want to take this planet for the Castis, just like they took ours, and I refuse to follow them.” 

“I’m not letting the VC lay a hand on me.” 

“Me either.”

Stahma looked away, feeling something she didn’t quite understand. Maybe she hated that her family hurt the Iratheints back home, or maybe she regretted following Rahm Tak’s orders, but no matter her feelings, she knew with absolute certainty that the VC was not responsible for this act of terrorism. 

They did not do subtlety, and they did not make mistakes. If the VC had sent an assassin, Amanda would have taken a silent bullet to the head, the shooter gone before her body hit the ground. An unelected mayor would be in her desk by morning, and the town would be bowing before their feet in fear of death.

Even though this sloppy chaos was clearly not the work of the Votanis Collective, and the women’s fears were unfounded, Stahma was not comforted. Her spies hadn’t reported any threats against the mayor or her staff - not from the VC, not from the E-Rep revivalists, not from any local underground institution. Therefore, she could only conclude that this wasn’t an organized political attack. It was personal, and without knowing the attacker’s motivation, personal attacks were far more erratic and unpredictable than coordinated political attacks.

“Come,” Stahma said to Alina. “We need to find out who did this.” 

“Yes, Favi,” Alina said, struggling to keep up with Stahma’s rapid pace.

“You’re limping.” 

“Sorry, Favi. I hurt my leg.” 

“Did you hurt it while doing something that would offend me?”

“No, of course not. I wouldn’t.”

“Then do not apologize to me. I am not my husband. I do not expect women to pretend their pain doesn’t exist.” She examined Alina, looking for other signs of injury. “What did you do?” 

“Nothing.” She shook her head. “I…” Alina’s gaze wandered toward the NeedWant, and Stahma’s gaze followed to Kenya Rosewater. A knot formed in her stomach, adrenaline pumping through her veins at the unexpected sight.

Kenya stood in front of the NeedWant in a purple silk robe, her disheveled hair flowing loosely down her back. Beside her stood a half-dressed night porter, leaving no question as to how they spent their night.

“I’m sorry.” Alina said.

“Sorry for yourself or for me?” Stahma asked, not taking her eyes off Kenya and her professional friend.

“For you, of course. You worked so hard to bring Kenya back because you love her, and she obviously spent the night with another. Why would I be sorry for myself?”

“I know you are close with the woman beside Kenya, and I know that loving a night porter is not easy. I would not think less of you if you cared more for your own hurt feelings than for mine.” 

“I am not close with Suli in the way you are close to Kenya.” 

“You don’t have any feelings for her?” Stahma asked, genuinely surprised. She had always assumed her young servant harbored feelings for the attractive night porter. They spent more time together than Stahma had ever spent with someone who was only a friend.

“Not in the sense that you love Kenya. I love her with all my heart, truly I do. I don’t know how I would live without her, but I do not want from her what she gives to others.”

“It’s better that way, I suppose.” 

“I think so,” Alina said, “for me. Not for you. You need Kenya in a way that I don’t need her, and it is hard to live without what we need.”

Stahma turned to Alina, surprised to hear such remarks coming from someone she still considered a child. “You might be wiser than I gave you credit for.” 

“Thank you, favi.” Alina gave Stahma a shy, proud smile. “That means more to me than you can imagine.”

“Go,” Stahma said. “Be with your friend. I’ll see you for lunch.” 

“Thank you, favi,” Alina said, gracelessly bouncing away. One unusually thoughtful comment didn’t erase her youth.

Stahma turned her gaze back to Kenya, but Kenya didn’t notice. She simply watched Amanda and Nolan with mournful eyes, no interest in the rest of the world. She watched as Nolan leaned against Amanda’s shoulder, talking with one of the deputies whose name Stahma never could remember. Nolan was injured, that much was obvious, but Amanda seemed fine. If the bomber had tried to kill the mayor, they were unsuccessful.

The longer Stahma silently watched Kenya, the more tightly the knot in her stomach twisted. She had lived months of her life entirely for this woman, spending every bit of energy and money she could spare on reviving her, and now, here Kenya was… immediately falling into bed with someone else. 

It killed her to see Kenya with another, but Stahma was a realistic woman who had prepared for this moment. She knew better than to believe she lived in a fantasy world where forgiveness was easy. Still, the pain of it was more than she expected. She didn’t know what to do with her life now that she wasn’t living it to achieve a singular goal, wasn’t living it for Kenya.

Stahma took a deep breath as Alina pulled Suli away, leaving Kenya alone to pine after her sister’s absent affection. This was Stahma’s chance to confront Kenya, to… well, that was the problem. What would she say? What would she do? Kenya needed space, and Stahma needed information. She tore her eyes away from Kenya, swerving to avoid Doc Yewll and Samir as they rushed to attend to the few people who had sustained mild injuries. 

Stahma had a new goal to focus on, at least for the night. It wasn’t her job to worry about the mayor, but it was her job to worry about Alak, whose proximity to the mayor put him at risk. She needed to interrogate witnesses and find out what happened without looking suspicious. Luckily, she was a master of feigning innocence. 

She smiled sweetly at onlookers, agreeing with everything they said, sharing in their fears until they believed she was on their side. Then she’d ask vague questions that answered nothing on their own, but would combine to form a complete picture. Unfortunately, she didn’t receive a single helpful answer. Quite worryingly, no one knew anything.

Leaving the uninformed masses behind, she stopped to pick up a blood lily that had been blasted away from the flower stand, her eyes trained on Berlin and Irisa, who were crouched beside the source of the explosion. If she wanted to know what happened, that’s where she needed to be. Getting too close to them was risky, but she’d already exhausted every other option.

Stahma slipped between the billowing remains of a vendor’s tent a few feet behind the lawkeepers where she heard Irisa say, “The bomb was right in the center of the podium. It would have instantly killed anyone standing here.” This was the information Stahma needed.

“It was an assassination attempt,” Berlin said with unbridled confidence. “The bomb was meant for tomorrow, but it exploded too early, and the inexperienced idiot who set it off was just lucky it didn’t blow up in their face.”

“You think anyone over there is a suspect?” Irisa stood and looked towards the victims. “They could be trying to blend in, not seem suspicious.”

“We have to interview them to be sure,” Berlin said, “but no. The only people out here were Nolan, a night porter, and a couple farmers. They all have reasons to be in this area at this time of night, and no obvious reason to want Amanda dead.” 

“We can’t let Amanda speak in public until we figure this out.” Irisa glanced in Amanda’s direction. “She shouldn’t be out here right now.”

“She’s not going to let us lock her up inside, you know that.” 

“Then she needs a bodyguard.”

“Mayb… shtako, shtako, shtako, shtako, shtako.” Berlin’s entire body tensed as she pulled a scrap of metal out of the burnt wood. “This is worse than I thought.”

“What do you mean?”

“This is E-Rep.” Berlin looked up at Irisa with fear in her eyes. “But the VC destroyed all the remaining E-Rep weapons in Defiance back before they blew up the arch. There hasn’t been anything like this in town for years. You can’t just find this stuff laying around. It’s rare and expensive to import.”

“Then who could have done it?”

Berlin stood up, hands on her hips as she said, “Someone rich who hates Amanda and has the means to import weapons without the guards at the stasis net noticing.”

“So… same suspect as usual, then, “Irisa said with a sigh, and that was all Stahma needed to hear.

Stahma knew her husband was cocky and selfish, but she couldn’t understand why he would do something so foolish as to kill the mayor. Or why he would fail so spectacularly. She was too popular for Datak to usurp without military force. If Datak was a lone assassin, her death would unite the town against him. He’d be hanged in a week.

No, he wouldn’t kill her. This couldn’t possibly be about Amanda. It was about their son. Alak was the only person Datak would risk his own livelihood for.


	16. Suli

Suli stretched across her bed, finding an attractive person beside her for the second time that day. A handsome man’s muscular arm was draped over her naked body, late-morning sun shining through her bedroom window. It would have been lovely if she weren’t a night porter who charged by the hour for this type of romantic moment. 

“Shit,” she muttered, elbowing her client in the side. She hadn’t meant to commit the utterly unprofessional mistake of falling asleep with a client, no matter how attractive he was. At least the first person to share her bed that day had paid her well and left in a timely fashion. “James, wake up.”

“What time is it?” he asked, burying his head into her pillow as he stretched out his legs. 

“I don’t know, but far later than it should be. I think we slept most of the morning.” 

“Shtako.” His eyes snapped open, meeting her gaze. “You’re not going to charge me for this, are you? A night with you is worth far more than I can afford.” 

“No.” Suli shook her head. “It was an accident. But…” she pressed a finger to his chest in a playful warning, “try to repeat this little incident, and you’ll be paying full price for every minute you spend with me.”

“Got it. Trust me, I’ve made enough mistakes at work to know they happen sometimes.” He reached for his pants with a smile. “But if I had to have an accident in a whorehouse, I’m glad it was falling asleep next to a gorgeous woman. It could have been  _ a lot  _ worse.”

Suli gave him a soft smile, trying to hide her embarrassment. “Just don’t tell anyone about this, ok. I can’t risk my reputation.” 

“My lips are sealed. And besides, I get it. It was a stressful night. You needed a release.”

“Exactly.” She decided not to mention he was the second person to give her that release last night. “Someone tried to kill the mayor. It’s unsettling.”

“Must be hard. I know you two are close. Plus, her sister is back,” he added. “Well, someone who looks like her is back. That woman either returned from the dead, or an Indogene clone tried to infiltrate the town, and I don’t know how to feel about that either way. All I can say is that this is one fucked up town.”

“Yeah.” Suli pulled her robe over her shoulders, strategically letting it hang loosely over her barely concealed breasts. He was a good client who she wanted to encourage to return, and despite his claims to the contrary, he had plenty of money to spare. “I don’t know what to make of all this.”

“You think Kenya and the bombing are related?”

“I don’t think so.” For Alina’s sake, she hoped they weren’t related, but she couldn’t confess to a client that she might be lying to herself because she was worried about her teenage best friend who just so happened to be Stahma Tarr’s errand girl. “It wouldn’t make much sense. Why go through all the trouble of reviving Kenya if you were just going to blow Amanda up anyway?”

“Makes sense, I guess.” He shrugged. “You know, I met her once, back before she died.” 

“Really?”

“Yeah.” He gave Suli a nostalgic smile. “I had the biggest crush on her. Even tried to buy an hour with her once, but I was 16, and she kicked my underage ass out. A year later she died, and never did get to know her.”

“I’m sorry.” 

“It’s ok. I lost out on a teenage fantasy, but other people in this town lost someone they loved.”

“Yeah… they did.” 

“Well, anyway, I’ve heard she’s the best prostitute this side of the Storm Divide.”

“Her reputation certainly precedes her.”

“Are you worried?” 

“Why would I be worried?”

“Because she’s going to take this place back and take your job with her.” 

“It’s hers to take.” Suli stood up and tied her robe closed, suddenly feeling more vulnerable than attractive. “I don’t own the NeedWant. I never have.” 

“Yeah, but you do everything. Without you, it would never have survived. The mayor’s heart is in politics, not prostitution.”

“Doesn’t matter. I did it for Amanda. And Amanda did it for Kenya, so it only makes sense that Kenya deserves it back.”

“You really feel that way? You work your ass off, and just walk away? Go back to being a nobody?”

“I… I don’t know.” Suli took a deep breath, a sinking feeling in her gut. “I guess I’ll find out how I really feel if it happens.” 

“Well, for what it’s worth.” He stood, fully clothed and dignified as he kissed her on the lips. “Kenya may be a legend in this town, but I’d miss you if you left.” 

“Thank you.” She kissed him back. “Now go.” She pushed him out the door. “This is rapidly leading into expensive territory.” 

“Yes, ma’am.” 

Suli closed the door behind him with a smile that instantly faded when he was out of sight. She reached for her clothes, trying not to let his comments get to her, but he was right. She didn’t have an identity without the NeedWant. Still, it wasn’t hers to keep. As long as she worked here, she’d been an employee who could be fired at any time, just like every other night porter except with a higher salary. And now she figured she worked for Kenya. That was the truth. The hard, cold, painful truth. 

As she walked down the winding staircase to the nearly empty bar, she was overcome with an unexpected sense of nostalgia and loss. Last night Kenya had been in her bed. They were having fun together, and now she was jealous of her. 

“Holy shit,” Alak said, rushing into the bar. “Have you seen what it looks like out there?” 

“Yeah,” Suli said. “You’re lucky you live so far away. The bomb woke us all up.”

“I need a drink,” Alak said, taking a breath and hiding his shaking hands in his hair. “I need… I don’t know what I need, but I need something.”

“Hey.” Suli pulled his hands out of his hair, holding them in her own. “Don’t panic.”

“I can’t help it.” Alak looked into her eyes with frightening intensity. “That bomb was meant for me.”

“You don’t know that.” 

“Yes, I do. Nothing bad happens during Amanda’s weekly speeches, but a bomb goes off on the day I’m scheduled to make my first appearance. That’s not a coincidence.” 

James’s words echoed in her mind. “Too many coincidences.”

“Yeah, and then there’s Kenya,” Alak said.

Suli nodded. “All this on the same day. It’s too much.”

“You know my mother was in love with her.”

“I do,” Suli said. “And also know she hates Amanda, so if we don’t believe in coincidences, then the two things must be related.”

“She loves Kenya more than she hates Amanda, and she’s not a fool. She would never kill Amanda if she wanted Kenya to love her back. Like I said, this isn’t about Amanda. It’s about me.”

“But do you think she would kill you?”

“No.” Alak turned away, his eyes cold and hard when he finally met Suli’s gaze. “But my father might. He doesn’t handle his emotions well. His wife is in love with someone else, and his son is working for a woman he despises. He needs power and control more than anything else, and he’s losing it. Maybe seeing my mother with Kenya was the last straw.”

He had a point. Alak’s fear started to seep into Suli. “You need to tell the lawkeepers your suspicions. Your father’s not going to stop until he’s reached his endgame, whatever that is. People could get hurt.”

“I’m sure they already know. It’s always him. He’s the number one suspect in any crime.” 

“Then let them handle it,” she said. The guilt in his eyes told Suli he might do something awful like trying to take this into his own hands, and she couldn’t let him do that. “This isn’t your fault.”

“That’s the thing,” Alak said. “It is. I know the consequences of my family name, and I knew them when I agreed to work for Amanda. I’m a Tarr. I will always be a Tarr. There’s no escaping that.”

“Don’t say that.”

“Can you honestly tell me that you think my parents will ever stop interfering with my life?”

“I don’t know them.” Suli shook her head sympathetically, unwilling to doom him with an answer. “I really can’t answer that.”

“They are exactly what everyone says they are. Violent. Scheming. Trouble. So just answer, go with your gut.”

“Ok.” Suli closed her eyes for a moment before answering, not wanting to give fuel to his plans. “Yes, you’re right. They’re never going to stop, but you don’t have to give in to them.” Suli squeezed his hand. “You just need to clear your head before you do anything. Calm down, relax. And then… then do what you have to do.”

“Ok, yeah, you’re right. I need to take a breath first.”

“Good. So come on, I’ll buy you lunch somewhere away from all this.” 

“Thank you,” Alak said. 

They left the bar, unable to avoid the scene of the disaster. The lawkeepers had gone home, and a cleaning crew had began doing their best to reduce the mess.

Alak stopped to watch the work, and Suli reached for his hand. “Don’t stop now.” She tugged on his arm, but he held steady. “You don’t need to look at this.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” he said, but in that moment, she realized he had resolved to do something stupid or dangerous that she couldn't stop him from attempting. “So distract me," he added. "What’s new with you? I know you have the best gossip in town.” 

Suli laughed and looked away without giving an answer.

“Oh my god, you have something totally far out!”

“Totally far out?” Suli asked, her eyebrows raised. “I’ve never heard anyone say that.”

“Look, I’m not really an expert on the nuances of vintage slance, but I’m committed to the max at using it with you. Judging my efforts won’t get you out of answering my question. What are you hiding?”

“What do you want to know?”

“Everything.” 

“I can’t tell you everything.”

“Ok, then just tell me who your most interesting client was this week. A simple question. Something to get my attention off this bombing.”

“No, no, no, no, no. Not a simple question at all.” She shook her head, a broad smile on her face. “I can’t tell you that. It’s confidential.” 

“Ok, then let me guess.” He took a big dramatic pause. “My mother’s handmaiden. Word is that Berlin and Irisa caught her sneaking in here.” 

“She’s legal. It’s not sneaking anymore.” 

“But it used to be sneaking?”

“No, it’s not like that with us.” 

“Ok, so if she’s not your interesting client then… was it my father?” 

Suli shuddered and gave Alak a disgusted look. “No, gross.” 

“Wait, are you telling me you wouldn’t sleep with my father? Even if he paid you?”

“I choose who I share my bed with, and I have standards.” 

“Good to know,” Alak said in a tone that gave Suli pause.

“You’re happy about that.” Suli was surprised, but strangely, not surprised at all.

“Yeah, I am.” He looked down, a slight blush on his cheeks. “I know you sleep with all kinds of people, and good for you. Get your money, but I guess I don’t want you sleeping with my father... because…” 

“It’s weird.” 

“Yeah,” he said, and Suli realized she probably shouldn’t have slept with his mother’s girlfriend either. Uncomplicated sex always somehow turned out to be incredibly complicated.

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is written to stand on it's own and I fill in the blanks as I go along, but I've written a few one shots that could definitely serve as backstory to this one:
> 
> [ Irisa Returns to Earth after the finale ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18386282)  
> [Alak becomes Amanda's intern](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19810909)  
> [ Irisa and Amanda talk about losing Nolan ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11603040)  
> [ Irisa struggles to adjust post-season 3 to being lawkeeper and learning to fight again](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11937486)  
> [ Berlin and Irisa bond and hook up ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7700593) (I have written multiple ways they get together but this was the first I wrote and the most popular of them)  
> [ Nolan/Amanda reunion ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7968229)


End file.
